


Armored Oasis

by Spectersticks



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Bad Weather, Battle, Desert, Florrum, Force exhaustion, Gen, Guerrilla Warfare, Mother Cody, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Tower Defense, sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectersticks/pseuds/Spectersticks
Summary: The enigmatic clan of Kajain'sa'Nikto known as the "Sand Wraiths of Florrum" attacks the Jedi outpost on the desert planet without warning. Several nights of bombardment later, the Council sends Obi-Wan Kenobi with Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano to uncover the reason behind these consistent attacks, while defending the outpost from the Nikto clan's ranged assaults. Ahsoka teams up with local Twi'lek allies from Florrum's northern capital to gather information, while Anakin and Obi-Wan stand by at the outpost to prevent further damage. The Sand Wraiths, however, don't let things go quite as smoothly as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So let's build a map. The Jedi outpost is a tower equipped with heavy cannons all along its top floors. This tower sits a little less than half a kilometer north from a steep cliff, marking where a vast canyon digs down about another half a kilo. But to the north and west of the tower is open desert - the hard, rocky kind. The south canyon curves up around the tower's east face, meaning that attacks from the Nikto usually come from the north and west (otherwise, they'd be ambushing from the low ground). Obi-Wan's job is to patrol around the tower's perimeter at a couple kilometer's radius, because that's where the tower's cannons' range ends. So from a couple kilometers away from the tower, the Nikto have effectively been avoiding the tower's cannon range and have been shooting missiles and such from there. Any groups of Nikto that Obi-Wan and his men fail to catch (they like to approach the tower in disparate groups from multiple angles at once) Anakin is supposed to fire on with the cannons from the top of the tower. Thus, while Anakin remains on watch inside the tower, Obi-Wan has a camp at the northwestern edge of the tower's maximum cannon range. Here's a nerdy map to maybe help share what I'm visualizing:  
> \-----------------------------|==========  
> \-----------------------------\\_[X]========  
> \----------------------------------\======  
> \-------------------------.----------|=====  
> \---------------.---[O]--------`---.--|=====  
> \------------.-----------------------.\=====  
> \-----------.--------------------------.-\==  
> \----------.-------------[A]-------------.|==  
> \----------.----------------------------/===  
> \-----------.______________________________/.===  
> \---------/==.=================.=====  
> \--------/====.============.========  
> Dashes represent the high ground. Equal signs represent canyon base. [A] is the Jedi outpost. [O] is the location of Obi-Wan's camp. I've marked out the perimeter of the outpost tower's maximum cannon range. [X] is where this story begins.

Dust filled his lungs at the first breath on waking. Dense, hazy waves of smoke mingled with the dull brown of dust overhead where Obi-Wan struggled to sit upright on the cracked desert ground. The rancid air around him was thick with shriveled ash and hot soot, exacerbated by the roar of fresh flames pricking him every now and then from the heap of wrecked metal just out of arm’s reach. Conscious now, he became acutely aware of the layer of sand seeming to coat all of his internal organs. He shot forward and retched, coughing ceaselessly until the pain behind his ribs overtook the shredding feeling inside his throat. The familiar sound of blaster fire piqued his attention in that short lapse of noise: the battle continued without him far atop the canyon’s eastern cliffside. The fight was still on. And he wasn’t there to help. In a surge of stubbornness he tore an arm from his burning side, gathered the tattered remnants of his balance, and thrust himself ungracefully onto his feet. A wave of agony scratched down his spine and split through his legs. It felt as if his bones had been rearranged while he was unconscious, carefully refitted to stab into his muscles no matter how he moved. Against his will he dropped back against the flaming tank beside him. The metal was scorching through his glove where he gripped the open side hatch, but it was all he could do to support himself while he brought the comm on his wrist just below his mouth.

“Cody! Come in, Cody!” he shouted above the angry flames and muffled blaster fire.

No response.

“ _Cody!_ ” he reiterated, hoping against hope that the urgency in his rasping voice might prompt his Commander to respond. Obi-Wan tried to reach him several more times, each attempt punctuated with fits of dry coughing that rent his lungs like broken glass. It was during one of these excruciating bouts that he discovered his comm unit’s light was out. In fact, now that Obi-Wan considered, it had never been _on_ since he woke up: the unit was simply nonfunctional. He sighed with a noise that was more akin to a growl than an actual sigh. Not a second had gone by in the past eight days that failed to present some new form of frustration. He knew he’d given Anakin the easy half of the mission this time, always reluctant to order the knight into the desert climate he so loathed, but he hadn’t realized that the other half would have him stretched between guerilla bombings, snipers, and kidnappings of his men every other day.

Slowly, and with not a small amount of self-discipline, Obi-Wan released his emotions into the Force. He shrouded himself in the light, layer upon layer, piece by piece, until his pain was no more than a vague sensation of discomfort percolating in and around his skin. _Anger is futile. The mission must always come first._ He then opened his eyes to a saturated display of cloudless desert sky. The crossfire above grew in volume as his senses sharpened to peak acuity. The lives of his troops shone brightly in the Force. Without hesitation, he leapt backward to the downed tank’s muzzle. He then jumped deftly from one ridge in the cliff’s face to the next, needing no more than a few centimeters of terrace to spring from before he at last caught the edge in one hand and vaulted high into the air. The Nikto pilot of one early model assault walker jostled in surprise when he was met with the Jedi, who suddenly stood balanced on the craft’s twin frontal cannons. Obi-Wan calmly surveyed the battlefield from there, eyes grey and calculating, scanning over the enemy’s formation, creating and discarding plans at a dizzying pace with each new detail observed. For a moment the armored Nikto was stunned in his confusion, neglecting to continue fire on the clones darting around the minimal desert cover. When his senses returned to him, he rose from his gunner seat and drew a vibrosword from his belt. Leaning forward, he slashed over the front shield in rapid succession, shouting a vile string of Huttese curses while Obi-Wan dodged with apparent disregard for the Nikto’s existence. ‘Wild slashing’ wasn’t considered a serious attack in Obi-Wan’s book, so he was content to leave the upset Nikto to his affairs while he prioritized identification of the fastest end to the ongoing battle. Serendipitously, the perfect entrance into the enemy’s defenses appeared before him just then, in the form of a tiny clearing behind one heavily modified land speeder outfitted with an oversized railgun.

The skirmish ended within minutes, but seemed to stretch on for hours. Thirty-six clones wouldn’t fit together behind the two short boulders at the site of ambush, so many had adopted the bold, unsavory tactic of dancing amidst the enemy. The hope was to discourage enemy fire within their lines, and to in turn cause some amount of friendly fire against the enemy vehicles. In the chaos, a clone might even be lucky enough to hijack a vehicle on his own. Obi-Wan recognized the situation at first glance, and elected to use it to his advantage. He bounded off the raging Nikto’s assault walker in a tight somersault, lightsaber slicing cleanly through the barrels he’d just used to stand upon for better vantage. The pair of Nikto manning the speeder ahead had no time to react before their ship was at once sideways, controls slashed and fuming, railgun severed and propped up on the ground. In the next instant, they were propelled half a klick across the desert with a sweep of Obi-Wan’s arm. Next, he needed some volunteers.

The loss of two of the Nikto’s assault vehicles seemed only to kindle their fervor for the clone company’s slaughter, and as a result they abandoned their concern over friendly fire. Heavy shots pierced the air at short range, blowing wide craters inside enemy lines and casting huge plumes of rocks and sand all around. Visibility quickly deteriorated to a mist of powdery dust and smoke. The clones were at a loss to predict the direction of the next shot aimed for them. Blind, outnumbered and outgunned, a collective panic began to trickle through the company. They didn’t dare continue firing for fear of killing a brother, and so instead fell defenseless and lost amidst the hail of red bolts and cannon beams. Relief cascaded over every one of them when they were each rounded up succinctly by their General, guided through the haze by the lantern-like beacons each man unknowingly projected into the Force. Ten clones in total ended up behind the grounded, sideways speeder. They needed no instruction to brace themselves bodily against the craft from the side opposite the enemy fire.

“Sir!” One clone called out, the unique markings adorning his armor all but sand-blasted into nothingness, “We can’t take ‘em! They’ve still got four walkers, another speeder and a tank!” The makeshift speeder-barrier rumbled and creaked at the impact of an assault walker’s heavy bolts.

“Actually, they’ve only three walkers, now.” Obi-Wan crouched near the center of the protesting sideways craft and impaled his saber through the floor.

“But sir! What should we do?!” the same clone barked, giving voice to his rising panic.

The beam cut in a careful rectangle, from which Obi-Wan’s attention did not waver. “We’re going to borrow this railgun,” he replied cheerfully, thrusting the rectangular panel of speeder flooring out and away using the Force. “Gander. Clips. You two move this gun and position it to shoot from this opening.” He stood and directed the clones with his hands.

Clips was first to catch on, but Gander was hesitant to leave his place against the speeder while it yet rattled against he and his brothers with every bolt it caught from the other side. “General, we can’t see what we’re shooting out there!”

“You’ll see this,” the Jedi explained and held out his saber, blue and vibrant through the dull grit blotting out the sun.

Ducking low where he positioned the railgun at the freshly-hewn window in the speeder, Clips’ eyes widened beneath his helmet. A third clone jumped in before he could say what each of them were thinking. “We’re not gonna _shoot at you_ , General, are you _mad?!”_

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the informality. “Oh please. We train _younglings_ to deflect blaster fire while blinded. Think of it as target practice.”

“ _Target practice?!_ This is _treason!_ ”

“No, Sander, it is an _order._ ”

Obi-Wan’s bearing changed then: stout and imposing, disarming nonchalance vanished, his eyes addressing each clone in series to make his command solid and reassert his place as High General. That seemed to do the trick, because in the seconds that followed, Sander, Gander and Clips issued a terse salute and fell silent.

“Ready to fire, General.” Clips kneeled before the railgun.

“Very good,” Obi-Wan approved, nodded, and launched out from behind the speeder, set to land aboard the nearest active assault walker.


	2. Chapter 2

It took every thread of loyalty he had for Clips to aim the railgun’s sights at the blue saber he’d been raised to admire. Never did his fingers fumble over a trigger before this day. _Clones_ _follow orders_ , he played on repeat in his head through the whole operation, trying in desperation to feel some amount of conviction that this was the right thing to do. Tried not to think about how he watched his General take a tank head-on over a cliff because he couldn’t be assed to let some clones take the hit instead. _We’re fodder_ , Clips recited privately. _…But he knows my name._ And then his right hand froze. He followed Obi-Wan’s lightsaber through the dust dutifully as ordered, but no matter how he tried, he found he could no longer shoot. Balancing on top of the whirling tank, Obi-Wan sensed the immense bloom of unease projected from the other side of the speeder-barrier. He wasn’t terribly surprised when the shots from that direction stopped, too. Of course it hurt his men to be ordered this way – Obi-Wan still remembered how it felt to be ordered against his own Master’s safety. It hurt him in turn to know that his clones were being made to experience the same pain. But even Qui-Gon had told him: _The mission must always come first._

The tank drifted to a halt. Obi-Wan was clearly not about to be thrown off, and the Nikto aboard the last functioning speeder weren’t having much luck either while their shots were consistently being deflected dangerously back toward their craft. There were no more walkers capable of firing, let alone walking. The tank’s driver thrust open the side hatch and leaned outside, a deep scowl hidden beneath his reflective mask. Obi-Wan turned toward him with saber pointed down in one hand. Complementing the gesture, he requested in Huttese that the Nikto surrender and be taken into the custody of the local Twi’lek government. The Nikto spat his refusal and produced from the strap over his back a gun whose model Obi-Wan didn’t recognize. He took aim, and Obi-Wan lamented for the driver’s decision then, for he raised his saber to deflect the incoming bolt. At close range like this, the deflected shot would most certainly be lethal. The Nikto fired. _Not a blaster bolt._ There was no time for Obi-Wan to correct himself before the slug shot sheared through his saber and the concentrated sting of molten metal cleaved across the right side of his face and neck. He released a startled cry and staggered back. Most of the shot scattered across the armor concealing his chest and arms, but for the time being, the explosion of white-hot pain consuming his neck and face precluded the use of his right eye. _Slugthrowers_. If ever there was an opportunity on Florrum for things to go badly in the past eight days, things had, in fact, gone badly. Obi-Wan added _slugthrowers_ to that growing list of Bad Things he’d encountered on this mission, for no other reason than to document later just how Bad a mission can get before he next allows himself to complain.

Swallowing his pain for the second time this battle (Obi-Wan found it hard to imagine it hadn’t yet been several days), he turned to disarm the Nikto driver. To his surprise, however, the driver came into view leaning over the hatch’s side, very much dead with five blaster wounds to the chest and one to the head. He couldn’t recall hearing his clones take the shot. The only remaining flashes of blaster fire could be seen a short ways off, coming from the direction Obi-Wan had previously been deflecting the second speeder’s fire. With his right eye screwed shut, he suppressed the return of a coughing fit and hopped from the tank toward the speeder with saber raised and skin stinging fiercely. Despite his haste, though, the clones didn’t leave much else to be achieved. The dust had settled to a degree since the initial intra-enemy bombardment, apparently giving the company enough of a hint to the second speeder’s location. Either that, Obi-Wan reasoned, or it became somewhat obvious where the last remaining enemy bolts were originating from, once the tank ceased fire. Upon reaching the speeder within a close enough range to observe the aftermath through the dust and fumes, he saw that one vengeful Nikto remained. He thrashed out from his gunner position at the railgun – not quite matching the design from the one on the previous speeder, Obi-Wan noted briefly – and swung his slugthrower from around the strap on his back. Reflexively, Obi-Wan raised a deflection posture, though he wasn’t allowed to pay a second time for his mistake when Cody stepped forward and sent a bolt through the side of the Nikto’s head at point blank. The silence that followed was absolutely deafening.

Clones gathered at the site of the last Nikto’s corpse where it fell. Dust and smoke billowed between them all, unhindered and unperturbed. After what seemed an eternity, staring in strange finality at the motionless body, Obi-Wan disengaged his lightsaber. The sound seemed to solidify the battle’s end. The company turned their attention to their General. After a time, Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his slug-sliced face, almost recalling his decision early in the war to pare down his armor to the least restrictive essential components. At long last, he spoke. Cody released the breath he’d never admit he was holding: he was about to take over if the emptiness continued much longer.

“…Well, I suppose that’s that. Collect the gear and let’s head back to camp. Load this speeder with the wounded. Pox, learn the controls. You’ll be driving ahead of us.” Something mysteriously hollow shaded his voice as he laid out the plan, but no one said a word of it.

“Ah, General?” asked Gander, carefully.

Obi-Wan acknowledged him with a look in his direction and a tired blink of one functional eye.

“There… Are no wounded. No dead. Not this time.”

It took several seconds for the idea to register in Obi-Wan’s mind. Even some of the clones glanced about the battlefield as it steadily became clearer, unwilling to believe that for all the fear and panic that came in the last few minutes, not one man succumbed to the ambush. The first indication that Obi-Wan heard Gander at all was the furrow of confusion knitting between his brow. Then, the scrutiny in his gaze as he gauged each clone’s health individually and counted them twice. Finally, the bittersweet expression of defeat when he broke a smile and ran a scorched glove through his hair.

“By the Force… Gander, you’re right.”

Even though the clones’ faces were shielded from one another, elation positively radiated between all of them just then. They exchanged small, rare, excited gestures among one another – shaking each other’s pauldrons, punching each other’s chestplates – some even laughed in their uncontainable mirth.

“But uh, a-actually, sir…” Clips’ sheepish tone threatened the mood. They all held their breath. “… _You’re_ wounded.”

Cody, as well as a few other members of the 212th more intimately familiar with their General, drew tight for the ensuing disaster.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I was worried you were about to report an actual injury. I assure you this is all superficial,” he placated, regarding the blood streaking his face and neck, pooling under his eye where it glued his lashes to his cheek.

“Well ah… It’s… not my place to ask, but you may as well take the speeder, sir, if there are no wounded anyway.”

Cody wanted to strangle Clips. The one way to _ensure_ the General didn’t get medical attention was to suggest he needed it. Cody found it most effective, when necessary, to rope Obi-Wan in with talk of strategy and predictions for the enemy’s next move, then to follow a roundabout path into the med facilities. From there, he had to hope someone would both notice the damage and have the balls to admit him for it. The whole procedure was ridiculous, Cody knew, but it worked at least some of the time. That was enough for him.

“There are thirty-seven of us, Clips,” started Obi-Wan. “I estimate this speeder can hold eight before it touches ground. That means the majority of us will be walking. I’m not about to abandon the majority of my men, who, you understand, would also be the slower party by default, and so would be the more vulnerable to another attack.”

Clips deflated. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Now then. Load up and let’s get moving.”


	3. Chapter 3

In the end the speeder was used to collect weapons left behind by the Nikto. No one wanted to be part of the minority taking it easy riding the speeder back, anyway, after hearing Obi-Wan’s retort against Clips. The Nikto had surprisingly powerful equipment, the clones learned early on, for being Hutt-serving desert-dwellers, but most of it appeared to be modified in some way. Salvaged. As for the remaining tank and other five broken vehicles, it was decided to send them to the same fate as the original tank, which slid over the canyon’s edge after being shot into malfunction at the skirmish’s beginning. The driver had likely aimed the slide on purpose in a last-ditch effort to scoop the entire company off at once. In any case, Obi-Wan found it exceedingly difficult to lift the vehicles over the canyon with the Force while his men loaded the speeder and collected the gear abandoned during the battle. Lifting a walker would normally require a focused, probably two-handed gesture, but Obi-Wan rather likened this task to what he expected of lifting the tank. The immense effort the job took culminated in a supreme migraine after the third walker, which had barely made it to the canyon’s cliff before deciding it hadn’t enough weight on the cliff-half to push it over the edge. Obi-Wan absently wondered if his pointed disgust with the fickle object could ever be enough to coerce it into compliance in place of the Force. He rubbed his temple – the one less caked in blood. Not only was his manual strength depleted since even before the cliff incident at the start of the battle, but deep inside he knew he’d only gotten through the present ordeal on his command of the Force. Now he worried he’d exhausted that store, too. Cody approached as Obi-Wan stood pensive with his hand scratching through his beard.

“General,” he stated flatly. His expression darkened when Obi-Wan startled at his voice. Jedi should _always_ know when they’re approached. To make matters worse, his General feigned no cover-up act to hide it.

“Ah. Cody. Something the matter?”

Cody quickly thought up something to say to fill time while he walked over to the tank. As expected, Obi-Wan followed. “I noticed you haven’t been answering your comm. I figured something happened when you didn’t comm back at the bottom of that cliff, sir.” Cody sat on the tank’s sloped side.

Obi-Wan took the bait. He sat beside Cody nearer the hatch, though neither of them acknowledged the dead Nikto flopped over within reach. “Oh, yes. It seems it’s out of commission. I’ll find a new one at camp.” He stared ahead toward the cliffs, blankly. His legs regained some feeling, then, though he hadn’t noticed they’d gone numb in the first place.

“Very good, sir. I just received a call from General Skywalker at the outpost. He wants to talk to you, sir.” Cody took the liberty of omitting the onslaught of complaints he suffered at Anakin’s hands; something about the importance of communication or some such hypocrisy. He wasn’t entirely certain how Obi-Wan would react to the offer, but aside from it being far outside his authority to restrict communication between commanding officers, he supposed the General’s old apprentice might know the man well enough to pick up on his state just by voice. Maybe then, Cody fantasized, Anakin would spout some magical phrase to convince Obi-Wan to get some rest.

“… _Wonderful_.” Obi-Wan actually slumped at the news. Cody stiffened. _There goes that idea._ Well, at least he got him to sit down for a bit. Cody handed over the comm unit. Obi-Wan propped his elbow up on his knee in order to hold the pounding weight of his head with the least amount of effort possible. He then clicked the comm back on.

“Obi-Wan here.”

Anakin brightened instantly. He hadn’t been too pleased about being essentially “placed on hold” to speak with his _own kriffing Master_ , and had spent the last minute bouncing his leg impatiently where he sat inside the outpost communications bay. Cody sounded a little reluctant to patch him through.

“So you finally picked up, huh?” He tried to sound annoyed.

“…Is that all this is about?” Obi-Wan picked at the dried blood flaking from his neck, sounding every bit as devoid of life as he felt.

Anakin noticed. Obi-Wan wasn’t usually snappish, even when provoked. He scrambled for a better reason for calling. “I’m seeing smoke outside where we picked up that signal at one-twenty-two, one-eighty-seven. Looks like you took care of it, but we found another signal south of here at oh-fourty-nine, one-sixty-three.”

“That’s in your range, Anakin. So shoot it.”

“Yeah, I _know_ it’s in range, but our cannons can’t reach it because it’s under that long cliff at oh-four-oh, one-fifty-nine.” He hated when Obi-Wan pointed out the obvious, like he was just a dumb kid.

Obi-Wan sighed in mounting frustration. He could _not_ take another skirmish today. But he _would._ He knew where this was heading, and he knew he’d simply have to accept it because _the mission must always come first._ “Then _why_ did you let it _go_ under that cliff?!” He narrowly managed to shove his face into the crook of his arm before exploding into a violent coughing fit to rival those at the canyon’s base.

The indignant response Anakin had in stock died on his lips when he heard the muffled coughing over the comm. He knew that eight days out in the dry, hard desert, moving non-stop from fight to fight would take a toll on anyone. Obi-Wan offered to take the perimeter on his own will, but it still made Anakin feel guilty while he lounged around inside the air-conditioned, well-stocked environment of the outpost tower. The recent fluctuations in his Master’s signature through the Force only made the guilt worse. And now this.

“We were busy with another group coming up from the south,” he explained without rancor.

“A sacrifice, perhaps. One group is more likely to make it under the cliffs if they separate that way.” The Nikto corpse to his left caught Obi-Wan’s attention as he speculated over comm. He picked up the slugthrower he’d been shot with earlier and examined it.

“That’s what I thought,” Anakin agreed, oblivious to the scene.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan concluded, handing the slugthrower off to Cody to put with the rest of the harvested weapons, “We’ll head that way.”

Cody sank. Anakin sank too.

“Master,” he tried feebly, “There’s a sandstorm coming in from the north. We’ve got men here who can take care of them if they try climbing up here.”

“You shouldn't wait for that to happen. They could appear anywhere along the southern cliffside now that they've the cover of the entire range below you. We'll drop into the canyon to the east and circle around to-” Another coughing fit took him.

“General, let’s let the tower take care of this one,” Anakin heard Cody suggest in the distance over his Master’s coughing.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “…We’ll ambush from the cliff’s base.”

Anakin’s mounting concern finally overflowed, and he decided he _wouldn’t_ let this call end without acknowledging the elephant in the room. “You… Holding up out there?”

“Keep an eye on the perimeter for us. And send Cody the details on your scan so we know what we’re up against,” Obi-Wan ignored.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin ignored equally, next opting for the actionable approach: “Why don’t we switch for a while? I can meet you at the cliff and we can take ‘em down together. Then you go up to the tower and I’ll get to stretch my legs for once.”

“ _Anakin_.”

_Oh, no_ , thought Anakin. That was the irritated tone of the End, officially marking the point of no return. Bargaining from this point on would invariably make things worse for everyone involved.

“You will _stay in that tower_ until our reconnaissance returns from Vinnesta. Do I make myself clear?”

Shot down, no compromise.

“…Yes, Master.”


	4. Chapter 4

Obi-Wan rose from the tank.

“I’ve just received some bad news from the outpost,” he shouted to his men, who granted him their attention immediately. “Another group has been spotted near the southern cliffside. We’re going to scale down the canyon here, and meet them as we travel south along the wall. Boil, Switch, you’ll scout ahead and report back as soon as you discover their coordinates.”

“Sir, yes sir!” rang the collective, enthusiastic response from the clones, cloaking their disappointment at not being able to rest and refresh back at camp.

“Sir!” called Switch, “Are we abandoning the gear? There’s no way we can get these railguns down safely.”

“Not to worry. I’ll be down first to ensure that everyone and every _thing_ lands in the same condition it’s dropped.” Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard to disguise the muffled cough that escaped the growing pile of needles seeming to line his throat. “Pox,” he resumed, “Move that speeder toward the cliffs. You’ll stay with Parsey until I give the signal to toss over the guns.”

“Will do, sir,” answered Pox for them both.

“As for the rest of you – finish things up here and follow my lead.” At that, Obi-Wan turned sharply and walked toward the cliffs to the east. Cody fell into step beside him. Nothing more was exchanged between them in the short while it took to reach the edge, but Cody remained diligent, ever at the ready to lend his support in anything his General might ask. When the pair approached the canyon, the crisp, blue horizon was occluded by red sparks and rising smoke from below. Cody leaned over the edge to appraise the tank’s wreckage. Obi-Wan hopped down without a thought. From above, the tank was suffused in a cloud of black and surrounded by jagged slabs of rock that had broken off the cliff when the tank went over. The grisly scene was juxtaposed by the steadily shrinking form of Obi-Wan, climbing down the cliff face with decent speed for one who’d only exited such a mess not an hour earlier. Cody shouldered his rifle and made to follow suit.

“Not yet, Cody!” he heard from below. “Stay up top and watch over the men for me until Pox and Parsey have unloaded the last of the weapons.”

Cody scolded himself silently. Of course he couldn’t leave the troops without an officer. Either the desert heat was getting to him, or, more likely he figured, he’d inadvertently allowed his instincts to control his actions. _Stay with the General_ , they coaxed, _he’s hurt and it’s your job to defend him._ “Yes sir, standing by,” he answered, and promptly retreated to the canyon’s edge. Across the plain he found the company was heading his way with the speeder in tow. From his perspective they were all horrendously slow.

The clones descended the canyon wall in groups of three. Obi-Wan looked on from the base as they climbed, fending off suggestive whispers from the hot, polluted air telling him to shut down and hand himself over to his fatigue. It thus felt strange to be thankful, in a way, when the foothold collapsed under one of his men’s weight. Another moment of quietude and he might’ve drifted off completely. As it were, however, Obi-Wan was kicked back to full alert. The Force electrified his senses as he channeled the clone to safety, though the act took _far_ more effort than he’d hoped. Eventually the company atop the cliffside dwindled until only those remained as ordered.

“That’s the last of ‘em, General!” Cody shouted down. Pox and Parsey each took a side of the first railgun and heaved it off the speeder.

“Send down the guns!” Obi-Wan took position, wiping his mind in an instant save for the intent to catch the incoming projectiles. In his condition, he knew he’d need every drop of focus he could muster for the job.

“Incoming!” yelled Parsey. Obi-Wan found the object in the Force before it even left the clones’ hands.

Altogether the task was something like catching a barrage of fighters spiraling violently out of the atmosphere. Obi-Wan’s arms shook by the end of it, his breath coming in haggard wheezes that served no real purpose – the air expelled was just as rotten as that taken in. Against his resolve he coughed, cursing himself all the while for the display of weakness in front of his men. Morale was already on its way out after eight days of fighting. The last thing the clones needed to see was a commanding officer falter in the face of adversity. _No more of that_ , he decided then, and forcibly realigned himself with a harsh rap against his protesting lungs.

“All right,” he called upward through the smoke, “Send me the speeder!”

Parsey balked. The clones below exchanged a mixture of wonder, concern, and incredulous staring. Pox threw a look at Cody as if he needed a second opinion to reassure him of what he just heard. Nothing changed in Cody’s demeanor to suggest he shared the company’s resounding surprise, save for one highly disapproving eyebrow that no one could see.

He turned to address the two clones behind him. “Well, what are you waiting for, troopers? Get that speeder down there, double time."

“Y-Yes sir,” obeyed Pox. He moved behind the craft with obvious trepidation, but Parsey was less convinced. Aware of the risks associated, he approached his Commander.

“…Commander,” the clone started with an open, diplomatic gesture, “You know this isn’t safe. The General’s wounded and we all know he’s overdue a break from this crap hole – I think he’s missing a karking _eye_ by now. It’s not my place to say, ‘course, but I’d rather _not_ chuck a speeder off a cliff at my bloody C.O. right now.”

Cody was polite enough to allow him to finish, at least. “Trooper, I don’t give a _damn_ how you feel about orders. When they come from the General, it is _your_ job to execute them ex _actly_ as he says. If the General says he’s not wounded, he’s not wounded. If he tells you to throw ‘im a speeder, you’ll throw him a speeder.” To drive home the point, Cody lifted his helmet and bore the intensity of his expression straight into Parsey’s visor. “Next time you feel like waiting around to do your duty, you’d better hope it’s not in the middle of a fight, because little indecisive outbursts like this cost _lives._ You should count yourself lucky you haven’t learned that yet.” With a final grimace, he snapped the helmet back over his face.

Obi-Wan guessed with startling accuracy what transpired at the top of the cliff. He waited patiently with arms folded over his chest, suppressing a laugh when he saw Cody remove his helmet from afar. The clones behind him, conversely, better related with the stricken posture of Parsey. Their sympathies wafted thick through the Force, right alongside their acute relief at not being in his place. It never ceased to amaze Obi-Wan just how _normal_ they all were, for having been born and raised at a cloning facility.

A hand signal from Cody informed him that the situation was resolved. Obi-Wan hoped that Parsey wasn’t _too_ shaken, for the delay was actually quite welcome after catching the company’s load of gear. He breathed in a healthy plume of smoke and dust, then made ready to catch the final challenge. Parsey joined Pox behind the speeder. Cody stepped aside and waved the path clear.

“First he tells us to shoot at him, now he wants a speeder to the face,” Parsey mumbled angrily as he pushed.

The craft was gaining speed.

“Jedi are magical creatures, Parse,” comforted Pox, now running.

“I don’t believe in magic.”

The speeder launched. It flew magnificently in a forty-five degree arc over the canyon wall, hurtling rapidly into a nosedive angled to land squarely on top of Obi-Wan. Parsey looked away. He wondered how he’d be sentenced for the death of his General. On the bright side, he noted, he’d have thirty-five witnesses to testify for him. Meanwhile, as though he was playing some sort of game, Obi-Wan side-stepped the speeder at the last second. In the same motion, he thrust his arms toward the canyon wall. The speeder creaked bitterly as it flipped upright, its thrusters suddenly blazing into ignition both downward and forward. The bottom hover thrusts caught the weight of the fall with a thundering bounce off the dry ground, casting a powerful gust that radiated in all directions. The speeder then rocketed forward past the crowd of enraptured clones. Obi-Wan swung around and struck out his left arm. The craft sputtered in the distance at his command, careening into a hard turn back toward the group. He clenched his fist - the ignition stopped. Clones scattered from the speeder’s trajectory, now dragging along the uneven terrain, spewing sand in every direction, chipping away at the front bumper’s sheen. Finally, Obi-Wan raised both hands to half-height, paused, and lowered them in a calm, downward motion. The speeder slowed, coming to rest from its furious journey at the Jedi’s feet.

For all his militant scorn displayed just prior, Cody was first of the company to sigh deep from within his soul. He never lost faith in his General’s abilities – he’d seen too many miracles to experience doubt at this point – but something visceral always tugged at his heart whenever Obi-Wan dove into the reckless stunts he was known for.

“You see, Parsey? Magic.” Pox stretched an arm down in their General’s direction.

Parsey needed no words to express his absolute disdain for Pox’s buoyancy. He simply fixed his helmet’s steely visage in Pox’s direction.

Lifelessly, Obi-Wan turned around and plopped onto the speeder’s front hood. He cradled his throbbing head in burned palms. The clones were now wandering blurs in the Force, melding confusingly into one, then many, then one again at the periphery of Obi-Wan’s perception. A great, high-pitched ringing resonated so loudly to his ears that it drowned out all sound in the desert. The sensation of gravity danced in and out of existence, and he diverted all remaining fragments of his attention toward maintaining consciousness. He barely registered the feeling of Cody’s hand shaking his shoulder roughly. _Odd_ , he thought fleetingly, for last he knew Cody was on top of the cliff.

“It’s no good, Commander, we already tried that,” said Gander.

Cody, who had descended the cliff with Pox and Parsey about five minutes ago, stood up straight where he’d been kneeling in front of Obi-Wan. He addressed the amassed clones. “...We’ll stick with the plan. Let’s put all the gear back into the speeder, and be sure to leave room for the General. Switch, Boil, you two go on ahead. We’ll walk with the speeder.”

Switch and Boil acknowledged their assignment and bounded south, keeping close to the shadows of the cliffs. The next thing Obi-Wan knew, the speeder beneath him was rumbling with each new kit and gun fitted inside. He squinted against the blinding sunlight squeezing through musty air. For an indeterminate amount of time, he could have sworn he’d been floating about in open space. His shoulder met with the hard plate of clone armor upon wavering to something like a standing position. Words were surely sent his way in the distinctly brusque voice of a clone just then, so putting things together, he guessed in anguish that he was still on that ungodly mission at Florrum.

“Ah- Thank you, I’m quite all right,” he lied in no particular direction, attempting to find some of his misplaced balance in order to stand on his own. The clone’s voice rendered intelligible mid-sentence.

“…Florrum, sir. You’ve been in and out for about ten minutes. We’re just about done with the loading and then we’ll head south on your orders.” The clone’s armor had no distinguishing marks remaining due to the sand, and his signature was somewhere unreachable in the Force. Obi-Wan disliked the emptiness pervading his senses – was this how those insensitive to the Force saw other people? How did they tell one another apart?

“Right. Good,” he responded lamely, still struggling to make sense of anything. “Where’s Cody?”

A layer of ice seemed to slither over Cody’s skin at the question. “…I’m right here, General. I’m Cody.”

“…Oh. Oh dear.”

The magnitude of disturbance shared between them was palpable. Ever the Negotiator, Obi-Wan broke the awkward silence with a suspicious amount of charm and optimism, considering his otherwise deathly appearance.

“Well, I’m certain things will sort themselves out in time. Nothing to worry about. We haven’t left the eastern cliffs yet, I see?”

“I… Pardon my saying, sir, but it might not be such a bad idea after all if you, uh, took the speeder.” He made a mental note to find a way later to inconspicuously reward Clips for his foresight.

“Come now, that won’t be necessary–“

“To meditate, sir," Cody interrupted, "Before the next battle starts. I can also fill you in on the details sent over from General Skywalker. You can think on our formation.” He hoped the lateness of his qualifier wouldn’t give his true intent away.

Obi-Wan contemplated the invitation. For once, Cody was glad his General couldn’t scrutinize his motives through the Force.

“I do suppose it’s easier to meditate while stationary. Very well, I’ll take the speeder.”

Cody felt it was the biggest victory of the day.


	5. Chapter 5

The Force inside the top level of the Jedi outpost smoldered with sprawling wrath. Anakin paced the full length of the room back and forth numerous times in the past ten minutes, emitting wave after wave of frustration, causing the clones nearby to take a much greater interest in their duties for fear of becoming an unfortunate outlet for their General’s rage. He didn’t need to comm Cody again to understand what was going on out in the field – the field which he was expressly _forbidden_ from joining. Here he sat, eight days in the running, cooped up in the tower like royalty while Obi-Wan’s signature flickered and fluxed and finally extinguished. When it happened, Anakin all but ejected from his commander’s chair at the center of the room. He dug mercilessly through the Force then, static where he stood, head angled down, twenty-five clones looking on in varying degrees of confusion. His Master was still alive, he found in a rush of relief, but doused of the Force so severely he’d certainly have been counted dead to anyone else sensitive to the Force.

In a flash of impulse, Anakin’s agitation came to a head. “Black, you’re in charge. Shoot anything you see that enters our range.” He stormed toward the lift.

Black jumped at the command. “Uh- sir!” He swiveled around in his chair. “What’s going on? Are we in danger?” He knew enough of Jedi antics to recognize the typical “disturbance in the Force” posture Anakin had adopted earlier, and in his experience, that usually translated to some or other impending doom.

Anakin sent him a look across the room with animosity enough to be felt even without the Force. Every clone aside from Black promptly resumed his duties. “I’m going outside,” he snarled to the clone. “Stay here and _do as I said._ ” With a stern index finger jutted down at the ground, the lift doors closed and Anakin was gone. Black couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or afraid just then.

The lift’s descent came to a halt at the floor level with the platform outside: the small hangar was stuffed with ground assault vehicles that hadn’t seen use since the outpost’s installation over ten years ago. While most of the clones stationed on Florrum were assigned to various positions on the higher floors, Anakin knew his own men would feel most comfortable in a hangar, even if outdated. True to his prediction, he stepped onto the floor and found the clones of the 501st meandering from vehicle to vehicle, polishing already-polished weapons, crowded in small groups over crates acting as tables, keeping busy with whatever menial tasks they could find to stave off the unbearable boredom from the past eight days. The tower _had_ more than one floor, obviously. It was well-equipped with miniature versions of many kinds of sophisticated combat ranges, both for training and for entertainment, given how unstimulating most desert planets tended to be. But Anakin’s men were soldiers through and through, not a single one of them willing to risk missing the call when it finally came time to fight. Anakin made to locate Rex, only for Rex to find him first.

“General!” spouted Rex from nowhere, appearing beside Anakin. He was bubbling with energy. “Good to see you, sir. The men and I are _dying_ for something to fight on this blasted wasteland. Any news?”

Anakin smiled darkly. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got a job for us.” He strode to the middle of the room in a wake of eager bloodlust. Rex thanked the Force he was blind to and followed close alongside him.

“Men? Listen up!” began Anakin, taking a step on top of the nearest crate, despite exceeding the clones in height without it. Every one of his men dropped his activities and gathered. “A group of Wraiths is hiding under the cliffs just south of here. They’re using the canyon to block our trackers, so they could be anywhere along the bottom by now. I want a team of snipers to take some bikes out west where the cliffs turn and give us a visual on the enemy position. And then?" he paused for effect, "We’ll _exterminate_ them from above.”

The 501st roared. They were too absorbed by the prospect of battle to notice the unusual amount of malice decorating Anakin’s voice as he described their next mission. Rex sectioned out the snipers and ordered the men to arms.

 

\- - -

 

It took a full week for Ahsoka to gain an audience with the public affairs and investigations director at Vinnesta. The capital of Florrum was deceptively peaceful, much like the rest of the planet. Every lead she pursued in the days leading up to the meeting inevitably landed her at odds with dead ends, empty huts and in one case, a terrified and innocent fry cook looking down her left saber. After the seventh day of failure, she elected to hole up and meditate in the quarters prepared for her by the Twi’lek government. Any more of her nosing about and she feared she’d be marked as a criminal, too. The last scummy Weequay she encountered had addressed her by _name_. She was collected in the morning by two gentle, brightly robed Twi’leks adorned in close-fitting golden jewelry.

The palace at Vinnesta was small compared to other lavish displays of poorly distributed wealth Ahsoka had witnessed along her travels. The sandstone walls sloped and arched elegantly, but never seemed to stretch too high above the rougher-looking adobe huts concentrated throughout the rest of the city. Then again, she imagined, that might be intentional: the higher a building rose, the less protection it garnered from the buildings surrounding whenever a sandstorm hit. She was escorted by palanquin, much to her disapproval, though she ultimately acquiesced at the pleas of the Twi’leks when they explained how terribly common it was for government workers to be subject to kidnapping or assassination while out in the city, Jedi accompaniment or not. The Twi’leks refused to speak more with her inside the palanquin until a unique sequence of tapping was heard from the outside. Then, the door was unlocked from the inside, and opened out to a lush terrace blooming with life. Wire lattices framed the space and arched overhead, woven thick with red and blue flowers winding upward until they drooped down at the apex to create a cascade of vivid colors. Underneath the extravagant arrangement sat a low, square table surrounded by intricately patterned cushions. Ahsoka might have been impressed, had she not been previously saturated in the poverty-stricken culture of the common folk. One of the Twi’leks who rode with her held a palm out gracefully toward the table.

“The director will meet with you shortly,” he said with a smile.

Ahsoka feigned her best to smile in return, and walked over to lower herself onto a plain green cushion. For all the waiting she’d been forced to do in the past week, it took surprisingly little time for the director to appear at the far archway beside a well-dressed servant carrying a tray of tea. Unexpectedly, she noticed, the servant seemed to be better dressed than the director. At least the servant class in Vinnesta didn’t seem to be suffering. And if the higher-ranking official in the room was less ornamented than that, Ahsoka felt somewhat optimistic. She might actually get along with this woman. The public affairs and investigations director was a fuchsia-skinned Twi’lek with tanned leather binding her lekku. She wore faded blue robes with long sleeves that lacked the extra sweeping fabric flowing from the other government workers’ clothes – even the Twi’lek serving tea donned the wing-like version of the similar uniform. Ahsoka couldn’t help but wonder why a tea servant would choose garments like that which positively _begged_ for something to spill over them. The director sat on the cushion opposite. She did not smile, nor extend any greetings.

“I am Liiqua,” she offered instead, reaching for her cup as soon as it was filled. “I understand you are the Jedi who has been asking to meet with me.”

Something about the director’s precise nature elicited Ahsoka’s respect. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Ahsoka Tano. I’ve been looking for information regarding the Sand Wraiths of Florrum. If you have any-“

“ _Ha!_ ” Liiqua barked with a reproachful grin. “Those _thugs_? It’s about time the Jedi got involved. Those maniacs are unbelievable.”

“Oh! So you have information about them?” Ahsoka didn't mind the interruption at all. She lit up and leaned forward over her untouched tea.

“Jedi, if I had information on those _sleemo_ , I’d have torched their bodies a long time ago. The Sand Wraiths are elusive.” She downed the rest of her cup. “They have no loyalties here. No connections. That’s why we call them _wraiths_ , little one. They attack like savages, then disappear like ghosts in the sand. Every time you think you kill one, ten more appear out of nowhere.” There was no filter against the disdain ravaging her tone.

“I thought they named _themselves_ that,” added Ahsoka, despairingly.

“If they did, we would at least know they were after honor, of some sort.” The servant refilled Liiqua’s cup.

“Well- what kind of people do they attack? How often?”

“All kinds. Merchants, travelers, anyone stupid enough to leave the city’s boundaries. But not all the time. Some people can come and go and they report no sightings for a month. Then they leave again the following week and turn up dead.” Liiqua flung a hand out in exasperation. Ahsoka saw that it was scarred with old burns. “The Sand Wraiths are a lost cause, my friend. I am sorry they are troubling the Jedi, but you will not bring them to justice. The desert here is too vast and their groups are too many. Vinnesta has enough trouble inside her borders, and I choose to fight the evils closest to home.”

Now Ahsoka understood why she’d been deferred a week to meet the public affairs and investigations director. The blatant gap in affluence between the government and the rest of the city led her at first to believe she was delayed on some petty schedule of avoidance, but now she realized the director was no office-bound aristocrat. It gave her hope for the poor to know someone so devoted was fighting crime hands-on. But still, her mission wasn’t to aid the people of Vinnesta. She was sent here to learn about the Sand Wraiths, and even after an entire week of crawling through filth in the underworld, she turned up nothing. Her anticipated meeting with the director merely affirmed the mission’s difficulty.

“I… I see,” she deflated. Her tea was getting cold.

“Is there anything more you want to ask? I feel for your plight, Jedi, but you must also feel for mine,” Liiqua instigated in her heavy Florrum accent. Undoubtedly she was itching to resume some chase she'd temporarily dropped for Ahsoka's sake.

“Um, well… Is there anything else you can tell me about them? I’ve been trying to find information for a week, and my Masters probably won’t be too happy if I tell them I failed com _pletely,_ ” she admitted.

“Ah,” the Twi’lek answered with sudden comprehension. “You are a Jedi Padawan, I see.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Liiqua smiled then with sudden warmth that seemed unfamiliar to her cold exterior. “You were so busy in Vinnesta, I expected I was meeting with a knight.”

Ahsoka blushed, finally picking up her tea to bury her face in something. “…I’m sorry if I caused any trouble for you,” she apologized in sincerity.

Liiqua's expression deepened. “You have a bright future, little one. It is not much, but I will give you the file I keep on the Sand Wraiths’ activities. Use it to show your Masters that you worked very hard here, and found out everything there is to know.” She rose from her cushion.

“Oh, thank you!” Ahsoka gasped, looking up with eyes bright.

Just then, another Twi’lek entered the room bearing an oblong slab of rock.

“Master Jedi, this was ah- _catapulted_ , into the courtyard for you about five minutes ago,” the rock-bearer reported warily.

“What?! Is anyone hurt?!” Ahsoka blurted, standing instantly.

“How do you know it is for the _Jedi?”_ interrogated Liiqua, eyes narrowing into tiny bolts that carved through the other Twi’lek’s very soul.

“Well, you see,” he started nervously, fumbling with the heavy object to rotate it in his arms, “It says so right here.”

Lasered into one face of the rock was a message that, as described, addressed the Jedi specifically.

“Bring it to the table,” Liiqua commanded. The rock-bearer obeyed and then quickly made to escape the imposing director, though she forced him to stay anyway.

Ahsoka read the wobbly script, tripping occasionally over the local dialect of Huttese:

 

_To the Jedi and all who assist them_

_Abandon hope. Your spire will fall._

_Leave Florrum now or perish with_

_it. We will wait for you once,_

_and after this your spire is ashes._

_88 -61, 04 -99_

“Spire?” Liiqua questioned.

“The Jedi outpost! It must be the from the Sand Wraiths!” exclaimed Ahsoka. Liiqua and the other Twi’lek exchanged a look – they didn’t know anyone could be excited over a death threat from the Sand Wraiths.

“Are these coordinates?” the Jedi brought her face closer. “But there are two sets. What does it mean?”

“Planetary and Vinnesta,” answered Liiqua, confidently. “The first set corresponds to the location of Vinnesta on Florrum. The second set points to a location at the east edge of the city.”

Ahsoka erupted with enthusiasm. “ _Finally!”_ She then turned to Liiqua and bowed. “Director Liiqua, thank you for meeting with me. This meeting really was everything I hoped it would be.”

“Now _hold on_ , little one,” Liiqua ordered, “I get the feeling you’re planning to go find this location on the rock.”

“Yes, ma’am!” No measure of foreboding tone or disapproving body language could quell her spirit. Liiqua took a second to comprehend this, then resigned with a sigh.

“I see I will not convince you otherwise. …Very well. But these people are _my_ enemies, too. I will go with you and lend my assistance.”


	6. Chapter 6

The company marched. The sandstorm coming in from the north rode on the backs of the clones and pressed them forward until the canyon curved westward and gave shelter from the incoming winds. Along with the group hovered the mangled speeder packed with guns, gear, two clones and a General. It had been several minutes since anyone last spoke over the building storm. Obi-Wan sat on his knees in the back, serene and unmoving, eyes closed in meditation while the soldier to his right blotted away the blood staining his face and neck. To his left marched Cody just outside the craft. He spent most of the time facing forward, unreadable with his rifle pointed down at the ready. On occasion he would reorient to tap at a datapad he’d bring up from a clip at his waist. None of this was perceptible to Obi-Wan, however, whose tired mind slogged on through darkness like one searching for seeds in the aftermath of a razed field. The blip of the comm unit on Cody’s wrist pulled him back to the waking world.

“Commander,” reported the conventional voice of a clone, “This is Boil. I’m sending the coordinates of the first enemy sighting. We found two horn-heads lurking about in opposite directions – I think they’re scouts. Think they’re waitin’ for us, sir.”

“Do not engage them,” said Obi-Wan, before Cody had the chance to respond. He didn’t appear to be listening. The medic at his side startled back when he spoke.

Boil and Switch gave one another the briefest of glances to share their delight: last they saw, Obi-Wan was yet unresponsive. “Yes General,” replied Boil. “What would you like us to do next?”

Without question, Cody raised his arm with the comm unit and held it between himself and Obi-Wan as they moved in sync. If his General was in the mood to command, he’d do his best to facilitate.

“Do you have a visual on the main group?”

“No, sir.”

At this, Obi-Wan broke his meditation posture. His eyes opened slowly as he drew his arms up into the familiar pose of contemplation, stroking his beard deliberately. The medic to his right paused respectfully. He failed to avoid staring at the subconjunctival hemorrhage eclipsing the sclera of his General’s right eye. The striking red contrasted sharply with the cool colors of his iris.

“Cody. How far are the coordinates?”

Cody shouldered his rifle and used the newly freed hand to check his datapad. “…Not far, sir. ‘Bout a klick west from here.”

Obi-Wan rubbed a thumb over his chapped bottom lip. “…And Boil, how is the storm over there?”

“The storm?” Boil repeated. He wasn’t necessarily expecting to discuss the weather with the enemy in shooting range. “It’s uh… Not bad, over here. Can’t see much to the south, but it gets better closer to the cliffs, sir.”

“I see. Excellent. Head back and meet us as we come around.”

“What’s the plan, sir?” asked Switch, leaning over Boil’s comm.

“Patience, Switch. We’ll go over the plan on your arrival.”

 

\- - -

 

Ahsoka found it difficult to let Liiqua guide their way through the belly of Vinnesta to the location designated on the rock. She understood the Twi’lek’s desire to protect, her instinctive drive to take the brunt of the danger looming around every corner, her feelings of responsibility toward her home. But still, even as a Padawan, Ahsoka was accustomed to superseding the authority of others. She felt nervous the first time a foreign people’s warriors hid behind her back. Now she felt more nervous if they didn’t. Anakin was always goading her to be more upfront about her role as a peacekeeper. To him, that seemed to imply seizing command whenever a situation got rough. The idea of seizing command from Vinnesta’s public affairs and investigations director, however, seemed both improper and impossible. The Sand Wraiths were Ahsoka’s mission. But where their part in her life would end when she left Florrum, Liiqua would not be afforded such a luxury. Ahsoka was finally able to quell her anxiety over the situation when she brought to mind one of her favorite lessons in patience and humility: a Toydarian prince once lectured Obi-Wan for four hours, uninterrupted, on offensive combat armed with a sword. She remembered how Anakin tried to offer his sympathy after the prince finally decided his new pupil was educated enough, and she remembered how Obi-Wan refused, content to now understand every way it was possible to disarm a Toydarian prince in combat, should the occasion ever come up. The prince had evidently spoken highly of his evening with the Jedi, too, and relations between Toydaria and the Order improved as a result.

“This is the place,” Liiqua butted in, disturbing Ahsoka from her memories.

A large, squat, misshapen hut stood before the two, painted once in some shade of violet and blasted over by the sand many times since then. Corroded metal plates were integrated into the outer walls in patches, giving the whole building the feeling of a ghetto’s fortress. There were no windows.

“Looks… Charming,” Ahsoka quipped. Liiqua placed her ear against each of the metal panels. There didn’t seem to be a door anywhere in sight.

“Maybe we should try the roof?” Ahsoka added after a while more of fruitlessness. She received a disgruntled look from Liiqua for her suggestion, one finger lifted in front of her lips to signal her silence. Ahsoka complied with a deep breath. Not a whiff of the Force told her there were any especially unfriendly eyes in the area, but she wasn’t about mention that until Liiqua felt safe on her own methods. The investigation straggled on another minute. At some point, Liiqua stood. “…Let’s try the roof.”

The Twi’lek species was naturally acrobatic, and Ahsoka was pleased to find that the director was no exception. She required no help from the Jedi in climbing, leaping, and rolling her way over sensitive stone rooftops. The two trod carefully atop the decrepit violet building. It went without saying that entering a building with no exit but the roof was a dangerous gamble, but the breadth of experience shared between either party made the warning quite useless. ‘Dangerous gambling’ fit neatly near the top of both their job descriptions. The roof was littered with various unimportant trinkets – a rusted can with no label, threadbare blankets wrapped around fallen posts, droid parts of a model long past discontinuation – but a mysterious mat of thatch caught their attention across the way. It was weighted down with a stone, signifying someone’s desire to keep it in place: someone’s desire to return. Ahsoka and the director shared a look of resolution. They knew the real mission had begun.

Liiqua moved the stone and set it gently to the side. As expected, the thatch mat concealed a small hole in the roof wide enough for most humanoids to slip through with relative ease. Secret entrance or makeshift chimney, the intent was unclear, but the stale air wafting up from inside gave no indication that anyone was or had been living in the space in a significant amount of time. Before Liiqua could protest, Ahsoka plunged into the building and ignited both lightsabers as soon as her feet touched the ground. Her eyes darted all around in the dim, musty environment. She felt Liiqua land skillfully behind her in a defensive position as well with blasters drawn. Nothing moved. The warm air held everything in a perpetual state of dead stillness, untouched by the wind outside and shielded from all sunlight save for the spot pooling in from the single hole above. The walls inside were lined with what seemed to be a series of old, broken shelving units. Interspersed was a variety of metallic scraps that on further inspection appeared to have once belonged to a cohesive whole. One table yet stood upright in a corner, abandoned entirely but for the multitude of scrapes and scratches decorating its surface. Underneath it laid a discarded pile of aged machine parts. The building was utterly deserted.

Ahsoka dropped her stance, but kept her weapons lit for the illumination they provided. “…There’s nobody here,” she stated with sadness. The sentiment was obvious, but Liiqua knew it was meant as an expression of disappointment, rather than a report.

“Indeed,” she agreed impassively. “The Sand Wraiths may have been aware of us before we arrived. They might have wanted to get you alone, and then abandoned the meeting when they saw you would have support. I am sorry, Ahsoka.”

“I’m sorry too.” Every one of her leads in the past eight days had fallen flat. She realized she didn’t even know what a Sand Wraith _looked_ like by now, harboring only conflicting descriptions elicited from short-time allies acquired and lost throughout the week leading up to today. “I guess I’ll take that file now.” Her sabers disengaged. Liiqua began searching for a shelving unit structurally stable enough to use as a ladder, when all of the sudden a gust in the Force blew over Ahsoka like a tidal wave. A shiver wracked down her spine.

“Liiqua!” she shouted in alarm, “We have to get out of here!”

The building collapsed on top of them in a fiery blaze of shredded wood and fragmented brick. Distant screams of the city dwellers nearby could scarcely be heard over the crunch of flames and falling debris. The air was at once swollen with heavy clouds of dust and smoke, and when Ahsoka’s senses returned to her, she found herself encaged in a shell of jagged rubble. Pinning her down from the front were the remains of a large shelving unit she expected had saved her life from the smaller shards of debris, though her legs were rendered immobile underneath it. Feeling the Force seep down through her arms and pool into her hands, she thrust the unit far away into a pile of fallen scaffolding. Her first reaction was _pain_. Curdling, unbridled pain raked ruthlessly through her legs where the shelving had lain, and with a glance down toward the damage she now saw two deep gashes across her thighs drooling lazily with blood. _No time_ , she prodded to herself. She had to find the director. Fuchsia was, Ahsoka celebrated, a highly noticeable color, so it took mere moments to locate the obscured form of Liiqua off to her right where she lay prone under several slabs of stone rooftop. Ahsoka stumbled in that direction on bloody knees.

The weight of the largest slab on top of Liiqua was too much for Ahsoka’s shaking arms. The harder she pulled, the more she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach with a battering ram. The piece would have to be lifted with the Force. She only hoped she could manage enough focus for the job through the panic settling in over the director’s slipping life. While her senses were occupied with the debris, she couldn’t predict it when one long bolt from a sniper rifle skated just centimeters away from her neck. Ahsoka’s hands flew to her belt – her lightsabers weren’t there. Another bolt flew past her shoulder and she dove to the ground, narrowly missing the next shot sent straight through the space where her head would have been. Through the dust and embers she crawled, scraping fresh scrapes against hot, charred rocks. Her eyes scanned desperately through the suffocating fog. Privately she begged Liiqua to hold on, knowing the Twi’lek would never receive the message. Just then, the gleam of her right-hand saber’s hilt caught the sunlight where it flickered in between the dust. It was well out of arm’s reach. Ahsoka yanked it from the sand with a sharp tug of the Force.

On lacerated legs she then vaulted to her feet and deflected a sniper’s bolt in the next second. The air stung her eyes, but for the moment she didn’t need them. Slowly she stepped backward, keeping her guard tight with each shot deflected, until she returned to the stones eating away at Liiqua’s place in the Force. There wasn’t time to simultaneously defend against the incoming bolts and pull the director to safety. It was all Ahsoka could do to stand over her with one lightsaber and fight for them both. Amidst the ruined combat zone, a tiny object bounced in through the sky. She ignored it at first; small rocks and bits of wood were still dropping here and there from the initial explosion. Only when the faint beeping in the area grew in intensity did she recognize it as a grenade.

“ _Bomb!_ ” she yelled to no one who could hear, and crouched in front of Liiqua with arms closed over her face. The grenade wasn’t aimed particularly well, much to her surprise. It combusted at a radius that fell short of Ahsoka’s position by about two meters. If nothing else, the explosion succeeded at igniting any wood in the area that had yet to burn at the first blast. The shots stopped. With the new flames added to the mix, the previously unfavorable visibility had deteriorated to a state at which sniping would be temporarily ineffective. It gave her the opportunity she needed to free Liiqua. She had to believe she was still alive. As the first rock quivered in the Force through her grip, she spotted a cloaked figure standing statuesque in an alley nearby. The figure extended a hand. It motioned for her to follow. Ahsoka tossed the slab aside with a slump of her shoulders and shoved away the smaller one underneath it with a stringent kick of her boot. Bystanders could wait to garner her attention. _This_ bystander, however, was apparently dissatisfied with being ignored. In spite of the warning look she shot him as he traipsed over, he knelt where she stood and helped to clear away the remaining debris on top of Liiqua. At the time, Ahsoka didn’t much care if the act was philanthropic or not. When she curled her arms under Liiqua’s to drag her away, the cloaked man lifted her knees as well. _I guess we’re carrying her_ , Ahsoka resigned, and immediately led the group down the alleyway before the fresh flames had a chance to die down.


	7. Chapter 7

The frantic race to escape the scene of the explosion ended inside a disheveled sandstone storefront. Ahsoka was, much to her irritation, significantly shorter than the cloaked person running backward in front of her, so the weight of Liiqua’s unconscious body shared between them was terribly offset in her direction. She felt a small amount of retribution when his height finally played against his favor, the stone archway of the storefront side entrance banging the back of his head on their way in. They placed the director on top of a heap of worn blankets. Ahsoka collapsed where she stood and scrubbed away at the sweat stinging her eyes. She heard a deep, garbled voice from the other end of the small room where the tall, cloaked figure was hurriedly shielding the open doorway with thin crates and old clothes.

“Uh– huh? What was that?” was all she could think of to say, caught between pain and adrenaline. Listening somewhat more acutely now, she determined that the man was speaking Huttese. Unfortunately, she knew her skills in the language were nowhere near those of Anakin or Obi-Wan yet, and the man spoke quickly and fluently in the same foreign dialect she’d read before – back at the palace when she had all the time she needed to put things together word by word.

“I um…” she started, mulling through her brain as fast as she could to recollect Huttese sentence structure.

“You… Do speak Huttese?” the man said more slowly, now in hesitant Basic.

“Oh, um… Not very well. I can read it okay, and I can speak some of it.” She didn’t need to ask about his skills in Basic; the last sentence he spoke indicated his preference with perfect clarity. He folded his arms and cast his gaze downward. At least, that’s how it looked to Ahsoka, given his head tilted that way. The reflective mask encasing his entire head was shiny and opaque at the front: just the kind for long days of travel in the bright, sandy desert. She stood. The sweat out of her eyes and the sounds of blaster fire subdued, it now occurred to her that although this person presented himself a surprise (but not unwelcome) ally, she knew next to nothing about him. What was more to consider, she was effectively trapped in a small, enclosed space while he stood in front of the exit. She didn’t like to doubt his kindness, but in her time at Vinnesta, she rather had every reason to.

“Who are you?” she demanded, trying on an air of intimidation with her hand situated just above her single lightsaber. She succeeded in piquing his attention, but sensed no fear behind his vacant mask.

“Majum,” he answered succinctly. “You are Jedi, fighting Sand Wraiths?”

“That’s right. Why did you help me?”

He paused. His mask drifted from Ahsoka’s face and turned to ponder the ground once more, but still she sensed nothing malicious from him. Conflict, urgency, and confusion, she sensed, but not guilt nor deceit. As if detecting her skepticism just then, he brought up his hands to his face and removed the mask with a click and a brief hiss of gas exchange. He reminded Ahsoka of Master Di: a Red Nikto. “…I wish to give information of Sand Wraiths, for the Jedi. No others will have. Jedi _must_ have,” he dictated, broken Basic laced with determination.

Ahsoka’s eyes expanded. “You _do?!_ ” Any level of ‘threatening’ she achieved prior was wiped away with the unhindered joy she expressed with her whole body. Majum shushed her with both hands outstretched. The short burst of commotion in the tiny room was apparently enough to perturb Liiqua from her rest, for in that moment she let out a grunt and attempted to roll onto her side.

“Liiqua!” Ahsoka exclaimed, just as loudly as before, and resumed her place at the director’s side. Liiqua stirred and bolstered herself halfway upright. Ahsoka might have said something else, but as soon as the director’s bleary eyes met the Nikto across the room, her hand dashed to her holster and she shot a bolt with astonishing accuracy toward the space between his eyes. The bolt shattered the crate behind him, for in the same instant the Nikto swerved left out of her range and produced an enormous rifle from somewhere beneath his cloak. The gun he trained back at Liiqua seemed almost the size of a small speeder bike, and most definitely had been constructed with several parts pulled out of one.

Unadulterated _hate_ flowed into the Force from the director. She stared down the Nikto’s barrel, unafraid, and pointed her own blaster again in his direction. Ahsoka couldn’t launch herself in between the two fast enough. “ _Both_ of you, _stop!_ ” she yelled once more, asserting her place as peacekeeper. “Liiqua, this is Majum. He _saved_ you!”

To his credit, Majum was the first to lower his aim. Liiqua spat some undoubtedly ruthless Huttese curses in his direction, but ultimately conceded to the Jedi’s words and set aside her aim as well. Ahsoka sighed. She tried not to imagine the turmoil she’d be in if the only two people in the galaxy offering information on the Sand Wraiths had murdered each other in the same room. In a much more controlled tone, she next explained to the director the series of events that brought the three into the empty storefront they currently inhabited.

“I see,” Liiqua said sharply, not so easily relinquishing her disdain for the Nikto leaning comfortably against his gun in the corner of the room. It was as tall as Ahsoka. She then addressed him again in Huttese. He responded with equal fluency, raising a hand to sweep about every so often when he said something in need of emphasis. Ahsoka caught bits in between the dialect, though she supposed that if anything important was exchanged, Liiqua would take care to translate for her.

“We need to get to this Jedi tower,” she suddenly spouted in Basic toward Ahsoka.

“What? Why?”

“Your _friend_ says that the Sand Wraiths are looking for him here. He also says they are planning a major assault on the tower underneath some range of cliffs. I don’t know. That’s what he said.” Her exasperation was blatant. Liiqua’s interest in conversing with the Nikto stopped firmly at his extent of usefulness.

Majum then spoke again in his language of choice, orienting himself to face Ahsoka as if he expected her to understand. Once it was clear she did not, Liiqua’s expression turned sour – even more so, remarkably.

“ _Oh,_ no. You do not _expect_ _me_ to translate for _you_ , you _vile sandslug_.”

“Director Liiqua, _please_?” pled Ahsoka with a bartering smile. The director’s eyes darted between her and the stoic Nikto.

“ _Fine_ ,” she acceded, “For the sake of the _Jedi_. This _creature_ has a bike we can take to go south. He wants us to go as soon as possible.” From the inside of his cloak, Majum retrieved his final offering in sincerity: he extended his palm to present Ahsoka’s missing left-hand lightsaber. She wanted to hug him. She made do with a curt bow and an honest grin as she accepted the hilt.

 

\- - -

 

The clones were packed into groups of five and stationed behind seven large, irregularly shaped boulders dotting the southern canyon beneath the yawning stretch of cliffs above. Having reconvened with the rest of the company, Boil and Switch were ordered to take the speeder and several of the salvaged weapons on board, ride south a klick into the rippling sandstorm, and sail across the Nikto scouts’ field of view. Obi-Wan had calculated the distance at which the pair would need to drive relative to the cliff’s face to ensure adequate coverage by the storm; the obscured image of the enemy’s own gear traveling unexpected across the horizon was sure to prompt investigation, and was unlikely to provoke offense. Boil and Switch arranged the weapons on the speeder to conceal their places at the front of the craft so that the scouts’ use of binoculars wouldn’t betray their identities as clones. The rest of the company awaited their General’s signal, ready to sprint to the designated waypoint once he confirmed the distraction’s success.

The plan never received the opportunity to be tested. As Boil and Switch were approaching position, the thunderous noise of missile launchers and blaster cannons split the sky. A waterfall of luminous blaster fire rained down from the cliffs less than half a klick ahead. The Nikto scouts tore off at incredible speed toward the scene, abandoning post, whirling rifles into their hands from the straps around their backs. Obi-Wan bristled. He understood the situation instantly. The clones whipped their heads toward him for the go-ahead to pursue, and with a heavy sigh, he raised his arm in a signal to comply. They streaked past in a flurry of tarnished white. Only Cody stayed behind with the General as the company soared ahead, reluctant to leave and eager to affirm his suspicions about the battle raging into life merely a minute’s jog away.

“General?” he prodded.

“You know who it is. I hope you’re prepared,” taunted Obi-Wan, exiting the cool shade behind the cover of their sand-smoothened boulder. “I have a feeling we’re about to receive those fresh troops we’ve been waiting for.”

The two broke past the company’s speed. They rocketed ahead of the rest, side-by-side, giving no pause to the crumpled forms of the two Nikto scouts shot down on the company’s way to join the ongoing fray. Obi-Wan drew his saber for the third time today.


	8. Chapter 8

Ghostly swirls of desert heat swarmed in and around the battle like an illusory inferno. The torrid air was teeming with deadly red bolts streaking every which way, ricocheting off enemy vehicles and blowing smoldering pits into the fissured ground. From above, the clones of the 501st stood in a rigid line at the cliff’s edge. Their collective shots poured down in a curtain of fire onto the assembly of Sand Wraith artillery – four assault walkers, eight turrets, two speeders, six barriers and a tank. A concussion missile was made ready to launch from their ranks in the back. In the canyon below, Obi-Wan skipped and weaved amidst the turbulent volley, dodging the thick hail of shots from both sides by a hair’s width as he carved a path for his men through the fray. The clones of the 212th followed from behind, Cody leading at the front, closing in rapidly from the east.

Two turrets went down in Obi-Wan’s wake. Their chain-fired bolts crackled and flashed against his blade, then sang in a high-pitched wail as they found their way back home and combusted on contact. The Nikto operators dove away in desperation, scrabbling up to their feet only to find themselves suddenly barreling uncontrollably across the hard, craggy ground. The battlefield swam in Obi-Wan’s vision. His body and senses felt submerged, everything moving at a lagging pace in a grand, noxious smog. When he lifted his hand to expel the two Nikto, the Force rent through him like a screaming gale ravaging through a wind tunnel – he was a lifeless vessel for something above his will. It _hurt._ The clones, on the other hand, saw a powerful Jedi holding fast against the chaos, supernatural abilities undampened after eight days in hell.

That same implacable, transcendental will then dominated his mind once more, setting fire to Obi-Wan’s nerves and pulling his attention forcibly to the right. There up ahead an assault walker trained its cannons his way, fully charged and ready, loosing its heavy bolts in slow motion. Obi-Wan slid half a step back. The next instant, a searing ball of bright red heat grazed across his chest. A singed path of black was burned into the dull white of his armor. He looked up after the bolt had passed, undisturbed and unfeeling. _Three long-range rifles behind me at three o’ clock. Another turret at twenty-one hundred._ Nothing more called to his attention in the Force. He knew they would fire simultaneously – he jumped. Sparks from the exploding collision of bolts underneath him nipped at the armor over his legs, and in the time between leaping and landing, Obi-Wan felt as though he’d lost consciousness entirely. The abrupt feeling of hot metal on his soles reverberated roughly throughout his body and hammered him back to his senses. The tank whose top hatch he now stood upon revved angrily, swerving left, then right, obviously livid at the Jedi’s intrusion. Obi-Wan, late to recognize the identity of his landing pad, whirled his arms and switched footing precariously. The scene unfortunately garnered the attention of every Nikto and clone present, being at the centermost and highest point in the ongoing battle. Cody used the distraction as an opportunity to order his company forward.

From far atop the steep canyon wall, Anakin watched the ground assault grow into a full-on offense. As soon as the 212th made it clear they were joining the fight, he ordered his men to avoid the incoming clones and concentrate fire on the field’s western half. He didn’t expect his Master’s company to reach the southern cliffs so soon – they were last on radar at least four klicks northeast. By his estimation, the 501st should have located the enemy well ahead of the 212th, leaving at least half an hour before the 212th even arrived. _Obi-Wan must’ve sent scouts_ , he intuited. As things turned out, the 501st wasn’t having the easiest of times picking off the Sand Wraiths from above after all; the incredible steepness of the southern cliffs incidentally afforded the enemy a considerable amount of cover, so all that any given Wraith had to do to avoid fire was to step closer to the wall and become automatically occluded from the 501st’s range. At certain parts, the cliffs were so steep that they even extended _over_ the canyon, creating a large awning for the Nikto to regroup and react to the battle outside. The miscalculation jeered at Anakin relentlessly. Fuming in irritation, he nearly missed it when Rex shouted to him and jutted an arm over the canyon below. There at the focal point in the battle, on top of the Sand Wraiths’ only tank, teetered Obi-Wan. He swayed and staggered, wracking Anakin’s nerves until at last he seemed to recover to a formidable stance at just the same moment when half the enemy’s total firepower was redirected his way. Anakin roared into his comm unit.

“Obi- _Wan!_ What the hell are you _doing?!”_ He waited for a moment before raising his voice a notch, while the object of his ire below deflected the incoming shower of bolts with impeccable Soresu. “ _Obi-Wan!”_ In the second infuriating pause that followed, Anakin managed to recall why he’d previously been comming Cody instead. Leaving no time for embarrassment, he switched the unit’s channel back to Cody’s. “ _Cody!”_ he shouted with equal, if not more flagrant temper. Cody jostled at the sudden screech through his comm, missing his target’s head by a full ten centimeters.

“General Skywalker!” he reported back, stretching his focus even further now between Anakin, Obi-Wan, and every Nikto determined to kill them all.

“Get General Kenobi and _get out of there!_ I _told you_ we can handle this!” He struck an arm out and pointed back to the east as he commanded.

“No can do, sir!” yelled Cody in response, “General’s orders! I’ll put you through with ‘im in a jiffy, sir, but he seems-“ His voice lapsed then while he rolled into a dodge to avoid cannon fire. “-Seems preoccupied, sir!” The assault walker hiding under the cliffs was being particularly annoying. 

Anakin growled through clenched teeth. Sometimes he hated how blind people could be without the Force. By his view, Cody was content to believe it when Obi-Wan put on a good face for the troops. Obi-Wan was, of course, an exemplary liar. He couldn’t _really_ expect Cody to see past Obi-Wan’s façade of wellness and endurance. Even if he could, Anakin still judged it unlikely that someone as rule-bound as Cody would defy orders on his command. The 212 th was all _about_ rules. Anakin couldn’t understand. Why wouldn’t Cody put the safety of his General above his orders? _He doesn’t care about Obi-Wan_ , Anakin decided. _Well, I do._ He took a few steps backward away from the cliff and bent down slowly.

“General?” asked Rex. His confusion didn’t last long. “…No. _No_   _no no!”_

Anakin sprinted forward. He knew exactly how fast to run, how far to jump, how carefully he’d need to land in order to take his rightful place in the middle of the danger. He’d land just behind Obi-Wan on top of the tank, standing by him back-to-back against the fray where he’s always belonged. It was worth a lifetime of lectures to give his Master support in his time of need. His foot reached the edge. The entire cliffside _shattered._ From deep inside the canyon, the Sand Wraiths fired a missile up at the 501 st. They knew they’d never get the angle they needed to send it into the clones’ formation from above – not without exposing themselves to their firing range – and so they opted to let the fragility of the landscape play into their favor. Breaking the footing of the 501st would mean sending rocks onto their allies, yes, but with two companies of clones on two separate fronts, the Sand Wraiths rather welcomed the prospect of self-sacrifice: especially if it meant killing two Jedi with one stone.

The clones fell. In a tremendous maelstrom of fire, rock and ash, the 501st were launched into the canyon amidst a flurry of jagged debris. The ground shook. The crossfire stopped. The 212th all gazed in horror at the immense plume in the sky directly above them, and Cody whipped his head toward Obi-Wan. “ _General!”_ he cried, nothing but instinct prompting him to call out to the Jedi for another miracle. Obi-Wan did not hear him. Damaged in the Force as he was, he _knew_ Anakin was nearby. That bond was something made tangible in the Force, ironclad and immutable. His foolish Padawan was in peril – the other half of his soul. Solemnly, Obi-Wan disengaged his saber. He knew it might kill him, but with a deep, prickling breath, he opened his palms and reached toward the explosion. The Force flooded with agony. Glaring white sparks formed behind his eyes and threatened to overtake his vision. The deafening ring from earlier in the day returned to his ears at a volume escalated tenfold. Blood split freely from his nose, running through his beard and over his lips, coating the back of his throat with the distinctive taste of copper. His fingers twitched and his body shook, but gradually, painstakingly, the clones of the 501 st, along with their General and several fragmented boulders, precipitated gently to a halt in midair.

While his men basked in a shared rush of relief, Anakin awoke to a rabid sensation of mental _torture_. He shrieked and slammed his shields close around his mind, head pounding with the unrestricted suffering steeped thick in the Force. The sensation was so intense that even his most isolating of shields began to chip away at the edges. He dared not attempt to fight this monster outside. He only hoped that Obi-Wan knew what was going on, because in his brief slip out of consciousness, he’d come back into a world of heat and dust and no idea as to which way was up. The ground – that is, gravity itself – was apparently nonexistent. Weakly, gingerly, Anakin sent one tiny projection of his signature into the Force where he knew it would be safe. He just needed to probe over his bond with Obi-Wan, and his Master would let him know with a tiny brush of his own that everything was under control. Anakin was met with the blackest, ugliest feeling of decay in the Force he’d ever experienced. It shriveled away at his projection, intertwining it with desperate claws until it choked to death and drifted apart. For the first time in a long time, Anakin felt _scared._ He distantly heard the adamant voice of a clone yelling something from below, and in the next instant he, and every other clone in the 501 st, dropped a petty two meters onto solid ground.

The bolt sent him off the hood of the tank. Obi-Wan didn’t register the pain of the shot, only the pleasant jolt he felt when the crushing weight of the Force was flicked off in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally scribbled down the main cast. Check it out [here.](https://iceshard007.deviantart.com/art/Armored-Oasis-730995747)


	9. Chapter 9

Anakin felt himself being pulled harshly onto his feet as the sound of blaster fire returned to the forefront of his perception. The abbreviated fall he took with his men wasn’t what was making his senses churn – the clones, in fact, were already up and running for cover to fire back at the unrelenting Sand Wraiths. It was the sudden break in the Force that Anakin felt just before they all dropped: it was like being slapped in the face by a brick of concrete, a dark abyss of toil and ruin that in an instant blinked back to normalcy. ...Relative normalcy, anyway, because the Force was once again replete with fear and dread mixed liberally with tenacity and heroism – the pervasive aura of the ongoing war. It might have even been comforting, in a morbid sort of way, were it not for the gaping hole that appeared earlier in the day where Obi-Wan’s Force signature was meant to be. Something disgusting had wormed its way into that void, Anakin remembered. He ignited his lightsaber against the incoming spray of bolts. That was sacred ground in the Force, now tarnished. Through the past eight days he'd writhed in passive obedience, sitting quietly as his Master’s signature dwindled from warm vitality to tepid distress to cold vacancy. He now discovered that there was evidently a negative value one’s place in the Force could assume. _Someone_ had to pay for this.

He dashed ahead through flying red beams and flecks of raining rock. The Nikto redoubled their aim his way, no doubt motivated by the fearful sight of a raging Jedi barreling into their ranks. He deflected the chain bolts of a turret to his left with a wide slash, spinning hard on his heel to catch the next wave of bolts coming in from behind. One Nikto fled and dove behind a barrier before the redirected shots detonated at his station. The others weren’t as agile. Still in motion, Anakin scanned the hazy field for a new set of targets. His eyes locked onto the far barrier partially occluded in the dust where shots were scattering back toward the clones. He made to rush the structure with a Force-assisted leap over the front, but stopped and veered sharply when the other side of the tank came into view. Through the blanketing sand in the air Anakin spotted Cody, devoid of any cover, firing his rarely-employed blaster pistol with one hand while dragging away the crumpled form of Obi-Wan in the other.

Anakin charged. He disregarded all thought of strategy, enemy formation or defensive posture, and _ran_. Cody narrowly avoided shooting him through the back when he materialized from nowhere in front of the two, lightsaber blazing at the ready to deflect. The tank nearby was still dangerously operational, though sparking from one end and sending fumes out the other. Cody had ordered it become the 212 th’s priority target so he could stand a chance at rescuing their General. He currently limped backward on a wounded leg over the battlefield, though by his plan he succeeded in not being blown away yet by heavy artillery. The backup from Anakin was a godsend. Cody dropped his aim immediately and crouched to lift Obi-Wan over his shoulder, rather than continue pulling inefficiently by his wrist.

“ _Obi-Wan!”_ called Anakin over his shoulder. No response came from behind, save for a belabored grunt from Cody when he shifted the weight of his General onto himself. Nothing more needed to be said. Cody staggered back toward the clones, and Anakin moved with him. He adjusted his position around the two at each consecutive shot parried, dutifully maximizing his use as a shield while Cody pledged full focus on getting to the nearest cover as soon as possible. They might not have agreed with one another in their preferred methods of dealing with Obi-Wan when he was conscious, but in the present circumstances, Anakin and Cody found they were of exactly the same mind. On reaching the nearest clone-occupied boulder, Cody knelt and deposited his burden in the shade against the rock. They were each surrounded by clones in the seconds that followed. “Treat- Treat the General,” rasped Cody, sparing himself a few precious moments on the ground to curtail the throbbing in his leg. Anakin could practically hear the absent protests of his Master. His silence was sickening.

“I’ll do everything I can, sir,” Kix’s voice rang anxiously, already abandoning his gun for his kit, “but we _need_ to get out of here. I can already tell this isn’t going to end well for either of you without proper equipment and care.”

Anakin seethed. He wanted to order Kix to _make_ it end well. Against his better judgement, he stole a glance down toward the scene during a break in the enemy’s fire. Cody gripped his armored thigh in one hand, already fumbling to collect the rifle from his back to finish the fight. Kix knelt close at Obi-Wan’s side, tilting his head up gently to administer a hypospray to his neck. Blood was staining much of Obi-Wan’s face, Anakin noticed then, painting over layers of desert grime accumulated for Force knows how long. His robes were charred, to boot – had there been there _another_ explosion today? A second clone from the 212 th that Anakin didn’t recognize seemed to be trying to get at something underneath Obi-Wan’s chestplate. His hands came away bloody as he reached for a pair of forceps, and Anakin grew still. His gaze fixed rigidly onto the copious, greasy red where it drained fresh from the demolished image of his Master. Something dark began to stir in the Force. Something foul and familiar stretched out its long, pale, bony fingers of corruption and twisted them heinously, yet seductively into his mind. He fought. Anakin fought furiously within himself to stave away the whispers of the dark side, but hard as he tried, he could not drive away the image of his mother, superimposed on Obi-Wan where she lay brutalized in so much the same setting.

The Sand Wraiths weren’t so different from the Tusken Raiders, now that Anakin considered. Vicious, pointless packs of feral animals, a collection of venomous parasites to be eradicated like any other disease. His mother fell victim to their plague before he had the chance to save her. And now they would infect Obi-Wan, too. Anakin changed. The tension in his stance ebbed away, giving birth to an eerie calm that belied the murderous intent hidden just beneath the surface. _They can try_ , he challenged. In that moment, the ever-present teachings of the Jedi were mute. He stepped out from behind the rock. The next shot fired in his direction determined the location of his first prey. He dodged the beam effortlessly, thanking the anonymous Nikto in silence for inviting him to come meet with his friends.

The first group was ambushed where they sat clustered behind a welded metal barrier. When Anakin descended upon them from behind, they all cried out and fled in simultaneity, though not one of them was able to overcome his speed. Anakin tore from one startled Nikto to the next, cleaving heads and limbs alike until nothing remained that moved. The northmost pair of assault walkers was met with a similar fate. The legs of their vehicles were each slashed to inoperability, leaving the pilots to escape the wreckage or die within it. One pilot broke into a sprint to the south: abandoning the battle or running to fetch support, his intent was inconsequential when he was suddenly snatched up at the throat by a pair of hands he could not see. Anakin felt the bubble of fear in his place finally pop as he walked purposefully in pursuit of the other fleeing pilot. There was no need to kill the other one just _yet_. _That one_ ran further into the battlefield. _That one_ would lead him to more Sand Wraiths.

It soon became apparent to everyone that the Nikto had fallen defensive. Those who Anakin did not kill outright ran away terrified from the cover he invaded, and were shortly thereafter picked off by the clones. By the time only one speeder remained, four of the enemy surviving clambered upon it and rode hastily into the horizon. Anakin frowned. He lifted one of the Nikto’s salvaged barriers with a domineering wave in the Force, then sent it after them with bewildering velocity. The emptied arena was quiet. Within moments, the silence was pricked by the distant sound and sight of a speeder’s fierce, orange explosion. He whirled his saber in a satisfied circle. Anakin then made ready to dash ahead toward the wreckage and ensure the quality of his work. His frenzy was terminated before he could leave, when the most authoritative, condemning voice he knew roared over the front. He froze. An ocean torrent doused the dark fire swirling in a veil over his ability to reason.

“ _Anakin!”_ he heard the voice repeat. His head swiveled to attention. Far across the field at the side of the boulder he’d visited maybe forever ago, Obi-Wan called to him while he struggled to break free of the insistent hold of two clones.

Anakin gasped. “ _Master!”_ he shouted in return, heeding none of the pain nor reprimand surging into the Force. _“You’re alive!”_ Then, as if he hadn’t just slaughtered almost forty Nikto, an unrestrained grin bloomed over his face and he bounded in the opposite direction he’d originally intended. The journey became much less cheerful when a third clone had to step in to help lower Obi-Wan to the ground in order to save him from collapsing.


	10. Chapter 10

The clones’ weapons were discarded unceremoniously in the loose desert dirt as they took extra care to lower Obi-Wan back against the boulder’s side. Said dirt was showered over all of them when Anakin came in like a storm and skid on his knees into the only available space at his Master’s side.

“Master!” he chimed again. The intense joy he emitted was powerful enough to buffer against the potent swell of mental and physical agitation pouring out from the cracked void that was Obi-Wan’s Force signature. He stretched out his arms, not really knowing what he planned to do with them, but drew back with a jolt when Obi-Wan pointed one severe and threatening finger far too close to Anakin’s face.

“What in _BLAZES_ did you just _do_ to those _people?!”_ he thundered. The blood coating his throat oozed into raw sores carved by the ample volume of sand he’d inhaled today. He retracted the punishing gesture to cough brutally against his will.

Several aspects of the spectacle before him caught Anakin off-guard. Aside from being strikingly _alive_ , Obi-Wan was _angry._ How in ten hells could he muster the gall to be angry when he’d just been rescued from what would have most certainly been his death at the hands of those worthless _criminals?_ Sure, the Jedi were supposed to advocate for mercy in all situations, but Anakin couldn’t fathom how this battle still qualified as an opportunity to invoke that tenet. To him, this was a perfect example of _kill or be killed_ , and by his rules the enemy was hardly even considered sentient. But Obi-Wan was also very much _hurt_ , Anakin recognized. The immense amount of damage he’d suffered under the unyielding desert sun for so long was clearly affecting his judgement.

“Calm down, Obi-Wan,” Anakin soothed in a reasonable tone. “You’re–”

 _“_ Calm _down? Calm DOWN?!_ Anakin you’ve murdered every Nikto in sight! They’re _sentient!”_ Obi-Wan railed back at him.

Anakin bristled and stood in response. His short length of patience was shrinking fast. “They were trying to _kill you!”_ he shouted down, fingers curling reflexively, “They were trying to kill _all of us!_ Obi-Wan, look what they _did to you!”_

In a show of defiance then, Obi-Wan drew in his knees and clawed up the rock to meet Anakin as close as he could to eye level. He batted away the clones begging him to lie still. The hemorrhage coloring his right eye only served to strengthen the magnitude of resolution in his gaze. That old, rotten sensation of blackness and decay crept into the Force again, now riding alongside some strangled abomination composed both of scathing fury and unabated love. “No, Anakin, look what they did to _you.”_

For the second time, Anakin flinched back. Obi-Wan was _wrong_. Anakin knew his actions were  _justified._ He knew he’d done the right thing with the cards he’d been dealt, but somehow the weight in Obi-Wan’s words cast a pernicious sheet of doubt over his conviction. He couldn’t bear to acknowledge it. “I- I did what I had to!” Anakin cursed the fault in his voice.

“You did what you _wanted to!”_ The accusing finger drilled into him once again.

“I _wanted_ to save your karking _life!”_

“By killing everyone in your way?! By disobeying my _direct_ orders and nearly sending your _own men_ to their deaths?! If I’d been just a minute too late your _entire unit_ would–” He failed to contain the next bout of coughing, this time bringing with it a noticeable spray of blood against his profoundly discolored white armor. The clones glued to his side were quick to the catch when Obi-Wan’s grip on the boulder trembled and fell. Anakin’s arms shot forward too, but he soon found that his help was unneeded. As such, he was at a loss for what to do. A great conflict was brewing inside him, straining horribly between his wavering opinion of himself, his undying need to protect Obi-Wan, and this gnarled, shieldless mess in the Force. So encumbered was he that the sound of his comm going off went unattended for several seconds without his notice. When he did take heed of the alarm, he did so with a third jump. He tore himself from the deteriorating scene, and turned away to press the center button near his mouth. He was afforded no time for greetings.

“ _Master!_ ” called Ahsoka in obvious distress, “Why are you _shooting at me?!”_

About four klicks north, one speeder bike fitted awkwardly with three passengers dodged magnificent globes of luminous green plasma. Majum drove madly at the front, swerving in tremendous arcs that scored his shoulder against the ground and threatened to fling away Liiqua and Ahsoka far into the distance.

“ _What?!”_ Anakin barked, uncomprehending.

“The outpost! Stop the cannons! It’s _me!”_

Obi-Wan piped up needlessly from behind. "This is why I told you to _stay in the tower!_ You never listen to me! _”_  He was once again on the ground, wrestling feebly to free himself from the clones attempting to patch the blaster wound in his chest.

Anakin growled and ended the call. Flipping the channel to the communications bay at the outpost, the room in the sky flooded with rage. “ _STOP FIRING._ I said _CEASE. FIRE.”_ Black relayed the orders to the gunmen who obeyed his command immediately, leaving poor Black to wonder in exasperation how he’d upset the General by following his explicit orders. With the situation resolved, Anakin turned around somewhat reluctantly to resume the battle he was losing with a highly disadvantaged Obi-Wan. Instead he was met with Cody, limping quite ably his way with a sniper rifle in place of a crutch. Surprise washed over his disgruntled expression. “Commander Cody,” he remarked, “Doing all right?”

“Yes sir,” Cody answered him, “I’m fine. But if I might make a suggestion, we need to find a way to get back up these cliffs.”

“Right. I’ll send some men to go looking for a slope in the walls.” He surveyed the land for serviceable vehicles.

“Very good, sir. But uh…” Uncharacteristically, Cody’s eyes cast down and away from a commanding officer.

Anakin didn’t like this introduction. “Is there… Something else, Commander?”

“No sir. Nothing. It’s just- if I may speak freely, sir–”

“Spit it out, Cody.”

“It’s about General Kenobi, sir.”

Anakin hadn’t previously registered the panic humming softly beneath Cody’s outward presentation. With the chaotic cyclone of every other volatile emotion packed into the Force here, it was hard to distinguish anyone’s belonging to any given mood. He turned his attention toward Obi-Wan and the other clones as directed. Contrasting to his earlier display, Obi-Wan now laid rather complacent on his back, head lolled to one side and breathing with grim effort while the clones removed his chestplate for better access to the deep puncture underneath. The only proof of consciousness he supplied were the periodic spasms of coughing that lifted him partially off the ground, dropping him roughly with an irritated grunt on each round’s completion. Anakin’s feet strode forward on their own.

“General, please. Wait a moment,” asked Cody, politely. Anakin begrudgingly granted him the pause he wished for and turned again, something in his pose signaling that this interruption’s time was limited.

Cody exhaled, preparing for the worst. “I know General Kenobi is something special to you, sir.” Anakin raised a judgmental eyebrow, but let him continue. “And I know he’s worse off than he acts.” That part came as a surprise. “So, if you could please, sir, just uh… Maybe, save the fighting for another day. For his sake.” A tumultuous stillness blew between them. Cody stood firm, ready to accept rightful punishment for prying into the inviolable Jedi relationship between Master and Padawan. Anakin scrutinized him in the Force. No clone, indeed no one in existence, had the right to decide how he was allowed to interact with his Master. But nothing in the Force framed Cody in an air of jurisdiction – he wasn’t _deciding_ anything. The purity in his desire for Obi-Wan’s well-being was simply astounding. After nearly five harrowing seconds of mutual and unbroken staring, Anakin nodded his approval. He passed Obi-Wan by on his way to locate Rex, sparing Cody a final glance in solidarity. Without the Force to differentiate, however, Cody took it as a warning.

Rex was found not far off, having vacated the area once the Generals began to argue. He saluted on Anakin’s approach and listed out the casualty report. Anakin was in no mood to hear it. “How about we go over that later, Rex,” he sighed. “Right now we need to find something fast and scout a way out of this canyon.”

“Sir, we’re not climbing? I had a look at the area map back in the tower, and I don’t remember seeing a dip in this canyon anywhere closeby.”

 _“Great_ , _”_ Anakin huffed. “Well, there’s nothing else we can do. We have wounded.”

Rex hesitated in his confusion. “…Right, General, which is why we’ll need to climb. We’ve got men here who won’t last a six hour trip around the desert getting to the nearest slope. And by the looks of it, General Kenobi’s one of them.”

“General _Kenobi_ is going to be _fine,”_ retorted Anakin perhaps too quickly. “And what are you talking about? The wounded aren’t climbing.”

“Well,” Rex started with a chuckle, “I’m not so sure that some of them wouldn’t like to _try_ , but I guess you wouldn’t know that the hangar here is chock full of old AT-TEs. Guess the outpost had trouble with these walls at some point, too.”

Anakin lit up. “That'll be perfect. And Ahsoka’s already on her way down. I’ll have her stop at the tower and pick some up walkers, then she can meet us here and take us home.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ahsoka was accosted on her arrival at the Jedi outpost by a clone escort of ten, each of them only too eager to call a security breach and shove the barrels of their blasters uncomfortably close to Majum’s helmeted face. After successfully deflating that debacle with no compelling assistance from Liiqua, she was next forced to scurry around the tower to locate the off-duty AT-TE operators. Evidently none of them had driven in over a year. She was about ready to just _throw_ the tanks off the southern cliffs when it was discovered that three out of the six were leg-locked due to prolonged inactivity. Hanging her head in frustration, she felt the double-tap of Liiqua’s forefinger against her shoulder.

“...Ahsoka. I would not trust him on this, but the Nikto says he can fix one of your vehicles.” She folded her arms.

Ahsoka perked up. She first looked to Liiqua, who exuded obvious disapproval in her stance, then to Majum where he stood under the shadow of a crouching AT-TE, carefully appraising the large joints.

“Sabotage is not out of the question for his kind,” Liiqua continued, “But I leave this decision to you. These are _your_ troops on the line out here. Choose wisely, and I remind you to be cautious, however you choose.”

“Thank you, Director Liiqua.” She sent her appreciation for Liiqua’s respect through the Force, knowing with a twinge of sadness that it would never be received. “Please tell Majum that he can go ahead with the repairs. I’ll have the men ready to go by the time he’s finished.”

Liiqua nodded and left to deliver the message. To any ordinary person, she’d have appeared ideally militant, accepting a contentious decision with perfect impartiality. Her feelings betrayed her with a turbulent flip in the Force. Ahsoka knew she couldn’t quell a lifetime of Vinnesta’s dishonesty with a day’s worth of words, but even so, she couldn’t ignore the presence of her left-hand lightsaber attached firmly on her belt. Were it not for Majum, it wouldn’t be there. Were it not for Majum, she might not here in the outpost at all. By the end of the hour, four old AT-TEs marched south under Ahsoka’s command.

The clones whooped and cheered when the walkers crested like durasteel angels over the canyon peaks. Medical supplies were spread thin by now; the 501st had no intention of joining the fight on the ground when they left the tower, and the 212th hadn’t been back at camp since morning. As a result, the troops had to make do with the scant supplies included in their kit. The delay in Ahsoka’s arrival caused a fair amount of anxiety, to make things worse, so it fell upon Cody and Rex to maintain an air of order and patience. The job was near impossible with Anakin’s brooding and Obi-Wan’s gory state in plain view. It seemed a lifetime before the rescue team finally turned up. While his men gleefully cleared the cliffs’ base to give the tanks room to land, Anakin sent his gratitude up by comm. But inside the centermost tank of the line, Ahsoka suddenly found herself unable to answer – she was absolutely petrified as her craft slowly descended into a great sopping wound in the Force.

“Ahsoka?” Anakin repeated.

At last her voice returned to her, welling up with panic. “Master… what- _Master,_ _WHAT_ is going _on_ down there?! It’s _horrible!”_ cried Ahsoka through her comm. “I-it feels like– It _feels_ _like_ – _!”_

 _It feels like I just killed forty people,_ Anakin finished privately. A loathsome feeling of shame dug into him with razor-sharp nails. “Don’t worry about that now. Everything’s fine. Just get down to the bottom and help me load up the troops.”

_“But–!”_

“Listen, I’ll explain everything later!” _Or something._ “Just stay calm and focus on the mission, okay?”

Ahsoka didn’t respond. She dropped her wrist into her lap where she sat secured into her seat by the AT-TE’s overhead constraints. Her eyes bore into the floor underneath. The vast desert sun waned red on the horizon. Upon making level ground at the canyon’s base, each tank knelt low and projected out a long metal bridge. They scraped loudly in unison against the hard, sandy floor, opening into the vehicles’ wide frontal hatches. The clones inside disengaged their constraints as soon as the doors were lifted. It took a fair amount of Liiqua’s gentle prodding to rouse Ahsoka from the droning sensation of anguish outside, but eventually the pair made it out to witness the aftermath of the battle. Liiqua surveyed the scene with fortified steel nerves. Majum stayed in place at the back of the tank. Ahsoka wandered between the mass of clone armor-white, looking lost and very, very small.

Anakin couldn’t bring himself to approach. Her shock and mourning were too fresh amidst the stale murk of the dark side, and if she traced this mayhem back to him, well… Anakin chose not to pursue that line of thought any further. Concerning the actual body count, he knew that Ahsoka had definitely seen worse in the past. He couldn’t even count the number of battles they’d walked out of together at various levels of morbidity, but up until now he’d managed to avoid exposing his Padawan to the worst parts of the Force he was so well acquainted with. It was one thing to screw up in front of Obi-Wan. But Ahsoka was his chance to at least _pretend_ to be a better Jedi. Anakin lamented. She shouldn’t have to see the Force this way. She deserved a guiltless, wholesome mentor.

 _“Master!”_ He heard her gasp in that same, fearful tone. His shoulders hunched involuntarily. Somehow, it wasn’t such a relief when he glimpsed her running toward Obi-Wan, instead. Two clones in haggard armor braced themselves stiffly against either side of him while eight more of the 212th stood vigilant in the immediate area. Obi-Wan slumped limply between his soldiers on unfeeling feet. Ahsoka came to a timid halt in front of them, treading backward at the same pace that the clones moved ahead. Compassion gushed into the Force then, trying desperately to fill the bleeding chasm before her.

“Oh, _Force_ this is bad,” she grieved.

To everyone’s amazement, Obi-Wan reacted. Sluggishly, and with all the coordination of a blind nerf, he extricated himself from the clones just enough to extend a wobbling arm out and clasp Ahsoka’s left shoulder. “…Ahsoka,” he wheezed in a belated, yet chipper tone, “So good to see you.” She stared speechlessly, unable to truly believe the degree to which someone’s place in the Force could be so utterly _ruined_. There weren’t words to express her total stupefaction with the hellish pit she’d dropped into, and so she resigned to gape pleadingly between the clones supporting Obi-Wan’s weight. Clips shook his head in despair.

“Why don’t you go help the troops inside, Commander,” he suggested wearily.

Rex was first to spot the concussion missile as it soared in from the south at breakneck speed. Dropping the macrobinoculars from his visor, he shouted warning over the commotion: “ _MISSILE INCOMING!”_ The hope newly brought into the otherwise decimated battlefield was dashed in an instant. Anakin too was plucked violently from his reflection. “ _EVACUATE!”_ he ordered, sweeping an arm to the east in an urgent motion to guide the troops out of range. The clones began at a sprint from the field’s center, but before any of them could make clear, the concussion missile screamed from above and impacted the canyon wall in a colossal ball of fire. The cliffs cracked and shook, sending another wave of rocks down over the battlefield.

Off to the side, Ahsoka marginally lifted her forearm where it covered her face. She squinted against the blustering winds of sand and debris cast off from the explosion. “What was _THAT?!_ ”

Obi-Wan coughed dryly into his fist. “–Sand Wraiths,” he reported, “Quite persistent, aren’t they?”

Something about his complete lack of surprise led Ahsoka to suspect that these _elusive_ Sand Wraiths she’d been hearing about for so long had in fact become rather friendly with the 212th. She coordinated with the clones surrounding Obi-Wan and sequestered the group behind the nearest rock. The clones – those remaining who were yet able – drew their weapons and took defensive position around the downed vehicles and boulders.

“Sorry sir,” said the clone to Obi-Wan’s right, lowering him to the ground simultaneous with Clips, “Looks like you’ll have to hold on a while longer.”

“Now– Wait just a–” he started. He cut himself off with another fit of bloodstained coughing.

“Don’t worry, Master Obi-Wan. I’ve been _waiting_ to fight these guys.” Ahsoka crouched readily at the rock’s edge and ignited her lightsabers while the clones extracted their guns.

“–I said _wait!”_ Obi-Wan managed to choke out before clutching his ribs in both arms. Ahsoka halted at the very moment she would have raced out ahead.

“Master, _please_ lie still! The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get you medical support. They’ll be here any minute!” she argued.

“It’s–” he tried again, hacking another handful of blood into the crook of his elbow. Clips’ hand found his shoulder, though he couldn’t say why. The bout continued until Obi-Wan was out of breath and wincing in pain. Ahsoka couldn’t find him in the Force. It was all she could do to disengage her weapons and sit anxious at his side. In the midst of her patience, a second missile blasted into the canyon wall near to the site of the first. The clones jostled. It wouldn’t be long before the cliff caved in, or until the enemy corrected their aim a little bit lower. Obi-Wan understood. His aching grip on reality was slipping fast, but he would spend his last moments to do what must be done.

“A-Ahsoka.” He called weakly through staggered breaths. Her attention locked onto him alone and made silent the sounds of boulders crashing all around. “…I need you to do me a favor.” Another pause. “…Tell Anakin to order the troops into the tanks.”

“The tanks? But they’re being shot at! They’ll be blown apart!”

Obi-Wan shook his head, succumbing to the burning sensation turning his insides to rust. “The Sand Wraiths have no armor-piercing missiles. The troops will be safe.” With a second’s hesitation, Ahsoka tensed and nodded once. “…Another thing. Anakin will soon be ordering a rush attack on the enemy’s approach,” he continued, melting into the rock a ways with eyes closed, "Once he’s learned we’re boxed in, that is.”

“You want me to stop him?” She leaned forward on her knees as if to will her Master back to health.

“Yes,” he said, after a time.

“I- I mean, I’ll do my best, but I don’t know if he’ll listen…”

That earned a doleful chuckle out of Obi-Wan’s fading form. “ _Oh_ yes he will. But in any case… Do let Commander Cody know that I’m placing him in charge of the 212 th. Anakin is to obey _him_ , from this point forward.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened. “You’re giving him authority over Master _Anakin?_ But he’s a Jedi!”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond.

“Master? Hey! What do you mean?!” She held his tarnished vambrace and shook it to no avail. “From this point _forward?! Master!”_

“You’d better go deliver that message, Commander Tano,” said the nameless clone to her right. “It’s what the General... Would want.”


	12. Chapter 12

The third missile impacted the battlefield dead-center just before the line of tanks at the wall. The clones had already withdrawn from the area to either side after the first shell hit, but Ahsoka was streaking swiftly from cover to cover across the battlefield to reach Anakin. With forewarning through the Force, she tumbled under the smoldering husk of an assault walker just as the blast obliterated the ground before her. Hunks of rock and metal hailed down like meteors and struck the hood of her impromptu shelter. She cringed away at the fresh spray of sparks that roared into the small space she occupied, but otherwise remained unmoved until the tremors of heavy debris trickled away into the light tapping of non-lethal fragments. She slid back outside onto scorched earth. Her injured legs wobbled as she stood again, suddenly unfamiliar with the absence of vibration in the ground. The air was thick and black. Right when she would lift her hand to cough, her arm was caught in Anakin’s sturdy, mechanical grip. She called his name then, recognizing his silhouette against the heavy fog, but not until he’d guided them both to safety behind the western cover with his clones did he give time to answer. Even then, he wouldn’t look her way.

“You’d better have a good reason to be running around out there, Ahsoka,” he scolded. He made busy watching the horizon for Sand Wraiths on the approach. Before explaining herself, Ahsoka took a moment to gather her bearings. Her vision was still blurry after being dragged through a hot strike zone at zero visibility. Perched above on a shelf in the rock they were clustered behind, she saw Rex matching Anakin’s focus with a pair of macrobinoculars pointed south. The other clones crouched apprehensive with their weapons drawn tight. They all knew that if the next bomb came their way, mere rocks and downed walkers wouldn’t shield them from anything. “I have a message from Master Obi-Wan,” she reported concisely.

That got Anakin’s attention. He turned to his Padawan at last, his face presenting a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She took it as her signal to continue. “He wants you to order the troops into the tanks. He said that the missiles aren’t armor-piercing, so that means we still have a chance at getting out of here!”

“Wait,” Anakin countered immediately, “He thinks we can climb in this mess? Even if the missiles can’t cut through the tanks, there’s nothing to stop them from shooting us off the walls. Has he _seen_ those _craters?”_ He pointed in the direction of the canyon walls then, but the billowing smoke occluded his target. “No way. I’m not risking it. We have to stand and fight.”

Ahsoka scoffed. In other circumstances she might have preferred to temper her displeasure with a sensible attempt at diplomacy, but with lives on the line and rocks in the air she found it considerably more difficult to debate with her Master in a calm fashion. “Oh _come on!"_  she whined. "This is _exactly_ what Obi-Wan said you would do. I want a safer way out too, but I don’t think the injured are going to make it if we don’t leave _now.”_

“What, and you think they’ll stand a better chance if they get blown off the cliffs?”

She flung her arms in frustration. “I- I don’t know! Maybe they won’t _get_ blown off! Or maybe we can intercept their missiles with the tank cannons!” Her eyes met the sand in diminishing courage. “I just- I don’t know. He didn’t say what he wanted us to do in the tanks.”

Anakin rubbed his face. He was beginning to appreciate not being invited outside in eight days. “Well why didn’t you _ask?!_ So far our options are ‘defenseless escape,’ or we take a stand and _secure_ our escape.”

“I _couldn’t_ ask! He’s unconscious now! Or–” She stopped herself abruptly.

“–Or _what?!”_ he challenged, daring her to say it, leaning forward aggressively into her space.

Ahsoka submitted. “Nothing! _Ugh!_ I don’t know _why_ he said you would listen this time.”

An unprecedented stillness washed over Anakin at those words. In the middle of missile bombardment and dying men, it was all too easy to forget that this whole scene might have been avoided if he’d let Obi-Wan’s team catch the enemy as planned. If he’d simply stayed inside today, there might have been no explosion at the cliffs, no massacre of the Nikto, no stumble into the dark side… and maybe Obi-Wan would still be tractable somewhere in the Force. Why did things have to go so badly every time Anakin tried to keep one person safe?

 “… _Fine_. We’ll do it his way.” He suddenly accepted, and climbed onto the boulder beside Rex. Ahsoka looked on in confusion while Anakin yelled out the orders to get to the tanks as quickly as possible, then hopped back down in front of her. “Happy?” he asked.

She responded with a warm smile. “Thank you, Master.” As he turned to help the clones on their way, however, the second part of Ahsoka’s message blared bright into her memory. Her victorious expression turned sullen. “Uh- Actually, Master?” She looked away when Anakin looked back. This was definitely going to be the hardest mission this week, in spite of everything. “There was, um, something else, that Master Obi-Wan wanted me to tell you.”

A second round of that same almost-glare of anticipation from Anakin prompted her to continue.

“He said…” She started gently, then deflated in a grand exhale. There was no kinder way to tell him. “He said you’re now under Cody’s authority.”

It took Anakin a moment to process. Ahsoka met his increasingly incredulous expression with false confidence, feeling terribly out-of-place delivering the news as his Padawan. Rex and a number of other clones nearby peered over slowly from their business escorting others to the tanks. For three torturous seconds, nobody spoke. And then Anakin snapped.

“ _WHAT?!”_ he thundered shrilly. “Is he out of his _MIND?!_ I’m being _DEMOTED?! He can’t DO that!”_ Both Ahsoka and Rex shrank away from his vehement outrage.

“I- I don’t think he said you’re being _demoted_ … Just…” She struggled to find any euphemism.

“ _WHERE. IS HE,”_ Anakin demanded, practically quaking with rage.

In a flash of protectiveness, her bravery was restored and she stood up straighter. “Un _conscious_ , Master, like I already told you. Just- Listen. I don’t know _what_ in the Force happened before I got here, but if Master Obi-Wan thought it was important enough to put Cody in charge while he’s about to pass out and hacking up _blood_ , I say we should just do what he says. You can talk to him later.” _I hope_ , she didn’t add.

Anakin said nothing more and stormed off in a whirlwind of fuming injustice. The whole collection of foul emotions stewing in the Force seemed to gather around him as he strode, leaving Ahsoka to wonder in earnest what it was that could have caused such a gruesome rift here before she arrived. Without her sensing it, Rex moved cautiously to stand beside her.

“Commander Tano,” he addressed formally, stirring her from her worry.

“Oh– Captain. I- sorry, about that. I probably could’ve broken the news a little more… Nicely.”

“It’s never easy to tell a man when he’s lost rank. You didn’t back down. That’s all you were ordered to do.”

Ahsoka forced another smile. “Thanks, Rex.”

“But ah, what I really wanted to ask, Commander…” he faltered, “Does that put the 501st under Cody, now? I’m pleased to serve the 212th, sir, but uh…”

Her exasperation flowed into her posture and out through her voice. “I don’t know. _Force,_ I just don’t know. I don’t understand any of this. I’m just the messenger here and General Kenobi is…” She trailed off. Rex’s palm clapped her shoulder.

“He’s going to be fine, sir. If anyone can survive this wreck, it’s General Kenobi.” With an optimistic nod, he removed his hand. The objective would have to be completed operating under an established chain of command or not. “Now go tell Cody ‘bout his promotion. Let's get this show on the road.”

Springing along on his rifle-crutch, Cody was found directing the clones to enter the tanks from behind, filing in from near to the canyon wall. The last missile hit the field over five minutes ago, meaning the next one was already overdue – if the rate of the previous three explosions could be trusted. When Ahsoka reported his newly assigned subordinate, he seemed to stop moving altogether. “…I see,” was all he could think to reply with, suddenly swamped in responsibility, as well as one other thought: “Pardon my asking, Commander Tano. But if the General’s transferred over his command… Does that mean…?”

Ahsoka couldn’t answer, so she communicated her grief with the slump in her shoulders.

“I… Suppose it doesn’t matter,” he lied. It mattered to Cody. It mattered _a lot._ “Right. Well let’s finish loading up these tanks and let’s get moving. We’ll climb our way up in a tight formation to minimize the chance of a ballistic strike between tanks. If they can only hit the walls from ahead and behind, we might stand a chance at holding on.”

“Yes, sir,” acknowledged Ahsoka without much feeling.

“I want you and General Skywalker to take one of the tanks in the middle. That’s where I’m sending the wounded, with you. If a strike comes in from the sides, you should be safest between our flanks.”

“Understood,” she repeated. The fourth missile stole the ground out from beneath their feet when it impacted a measly ten meters off. Prior alert from Rex gave them all invaluable time to flatten against the cliffs behind the AT-TEs, but the proximity of the blast made the aftershock inescapable. Those inside the tanks already were efficiently drenched in a downpour of displaced sand that surged through the open hatch. Hastening back upright on a decommissioned leg, Cody reestablished order and sent Ahsoka to inspect the ravaged field for stragglers before the beginning of the ascent.


	13. Chapter 13

Four AT-TEs were barely sufficient to house the full load of clones collected from the bottom of the canyon. The bench-style rows of seats inside filled up rapidly, leaving most occupants to rely on the magnetization function of their shoes and the overhead straps available for balance. As for the injured, only two swinging platforms were included per tank. These single-occupancy platforms near the front would accommodate on their own for a change in the terrain’s angle, but most of the injured were forced to stay near the back so that when the floor became the new wall, the clones supporting the injured could quickly maneuver onto what would become the new floor. The logistics of the escape were hurried and awkward, but everyone had to be prepared in some way or another when the tanks turned upward at ninety degrees.

It felt like a blessing when the frontal hatches finally closed and the bridges retracted into the tanks. To say that the compacted, sweltering space felt secure would be modestly inaccurate, though there wasn’t a clone present who would have preferred to spend another minute outside. The air was dense and smelled of burning oil. Liiqua sat fastened into her chair next to Ahsoka’s. She said nothing of it, not wanting to contribute to the suffocating amount of drama already circulating in the area, but it was her presence at the back of the tank with Majum that prevented the clones from shooting him on sight. The three watched Anakin from the opposite side of the cabin where he sat suspended on one end of the swinging platform. Obi-Wan laid yet unresponsive upon the length of it, his head cradled carefully in Anakin’s lap. The tender scene was entirely unexpected, given Anakin’s most recent eruption of ferocity – directed toward his Master, nonetheless. It made Ahsoka uneasy. The old AT-TEs rumbled into ignition and sent everyone off-balance with a start. The injured groaned with pain, the seated were thrust against their restraints, and the standing were brusquely reminded to activate the electromagnets in their shoes, but no one really complained when the unpleasant shaking in the floor transformed into the rhythmic, wave-like sensation of the vehicle’s walking outside. Through all of this, Anakin remained undisturbed. His fingertips swept softly at the dirty auburn hair occluding his Master’s unopened eyes.

When the uphill climb began, the lights inside flickered and bathed the small space an ominous, dim red: a needlessly foreboding feature that was eliminated in later models. The clones in back scuffled gracelessly onto the closed hatch, which was now level with the ground outside. The thought occurred to several that this hatch had been open not long ago, and if today’s bad luck would have it, they _could_ be dumped at any time. It was an unfortunate possibility for the wounded who were unable to stand. Apart from the regular sound of the AT-TEs’ elephantine footsteps as they plod along the cliffside, the trip dragged on in a collective, unbearable silence. Every meter they climbed was another meter they’d fall if the next missile broke loose their walker’s grip. As it were, the object of everyone’s dread was met when Cody’s voice rang through the static of the old comm link attached to the inside of the tank. “Concussion missile spotted,” he announced without apparent opinion, “Brace for impact.”

As expected, the guns of the AT-TEs were blunt and imprecise. It was worth the effort to attempt to intercept the missile before it found its target, but no one could be blamed when the shell collided on schedule, detonating against the leftmost tank’s durasteel hide with a resounding clash that reverberated through each of the four. Due to their tight formation along the ridge, every one of them felt in addition some amount of the missile’s shock. The lights flickered again. The standing clones trembled and knocked into one other. Those with the privilege of sitting down clenched their grip on the handles of their shoulder constraints. Anakin looked up in genuine surprise at the event. At some point along the abbreviated journey he seemed to have entered a trance with his head bowed over Obi-Wan’s.

The comm on the wall screeched loudly through the commotion. A few seconds of static later Cody returned, this time sounding a great deal more harried than he had before. “–We’re hit!” he cried out. Everyone’s attention glued onto the malfunctioning comm in alarm, powerless to do anything more. “We’re–” he pressed on, punctuated by static interference, “–Repeat, we’re still on the wall! I want everyone to move on without us. We’ll get this figured out– … –Catch up soon as we can.”

“Cody’s group is stuck on the wall!” interpreted Ahsoka. By habit the exclamation was directed toward her Masters, but neither of them provided any indication of hearing. Then, without warning, Majum disengaged his seat’s constraints and climbed nimbly to what was presently the tank’s side hatch facing south.

“Majum!” she called, but he was already gone.

“He’s makin’ a break for it!” accused the clone in front of Liiqua. “I knew the horn-head couldn’t be trusted!”

“He’s been tracking us the whole time!”

“The missiles must be targeted toward us by his signal!”

“You guys!” pled Ahsoka against the growing opposition, “Stop it! He’s our friend!”

As if on cue, Majum reappeared in front of the open window and shouted inside in Huttese. Ahsoka waited on edge for the director to translate, but before she could, Anakin perked up out of nowhere. “What? You _can?”_

Ahsoka was quick to intervene. “Master, he doesn’t speak Basic!” A long, red sniper shot broke the conversation with a sharp twang, rebounding off the top of the moving tank that Majum was currently clinging to. His masked head whipped in its direction. He next turned his attention to Anakin and spoke urgently as he climbed back inside, hastily gathering his oversized blaster from the storage straps above the bench. Anakin responded with equal fluency and seriousness, apparently enlightened by what the Nikto shared as he uncomfortably positioned himself and his gun halfway out the hatch.

Ahsoka only had to glance at Liiqua to make her request known. “One of the tanks is not moving,” Liiqua supplied unquestioningly, “Majum believes he can fix it if he can get over there, and he says it’s a good sign that the Sand Wraiths are trying to snipe him because that means they want to conserve their missiles.” It was noteworthy, Ahsoka observed, that for the first time today Liiqua had used Majum’s real name instead of any one of the more colorful terms she’d conjured for him.

“They’re running out of missiles?!” She gasped excitedly. Majum didn’t take his eyes from the scope of his gun while he answered Ahsoka in Huttese. Liiqua chortled darkly in turn. “He says he didn’t say _that.”_

The firing of Majum’s monstrous gun seemed to suck all the air from inside the tank. It was like entering hyperspace when he shot – the atmospheric pressure fluxed, all ambient noise was diminished, and the entire AT-TE bounced like it was made of jelly. To call it a lowly blaster was certainly the most severe of understatements: the way it screamed sent needles into everyone’s eardrums, and the light it projected back filled the cabin with blinding cyan. This was truly some sort of mobile anti-aircraft cannon.

“Got one,” he updated the group in Basic. It was suddenly much easier for the clones to believe that Majum was on their side.

“Ahsoka,” called Anakin abruptly, “I’m going with Majum to help Cody. Take over for me.” The resolution in his tone made it clear that this decision wasn’t up for debate.

She cocked her head his way. “Take over? Take over what? And- _Wait!”_ she leaned forward in alarm, “What are you planning to do?!”

Scrupulously, Anakin removed himself from his position as Obi-Wan’s pillow and landed with a clack onto the side of the bench opposite from Ahsoka. It was something else for Pox to witness what looked like a Jedi standing sideways on the edge of his chair to the left.

“Just– Get over here and do what I was doing. It’s hard to explain. You’ll get it when you try it.” And with a few more words in Huttese, Majum nodded and the two were out of sight. Ahsoka grumbled in annoyance as she unlatched her constraints as ordered.


	14. Chapter 14

The clones watched with rapt curiosity as Ahsoka climbed over and took her place where Anakin sat. Gingerly she lifted her Master’s head onto her lap as instructed, fighting away the urge to shudder when her hands came away with stains of dried blood. She was grateful then, for the poor lighting inside the AT-TE: she _really_ didn’t want to gauge Obi-Wan’s pallor against the bright red smattering his face and robes. With a short breath to collect herself, she tried to remember Anakin’s position. If she could recognize something distinctive about his posture, it might provide some clue as to what he was doing – what she was apparently intended to resume. She closed her eyes. One hand held Obi-Wan’s head in place against the tank’s jarring movements, and the other hovered delicately above it. _Emptiness,_ she felt _._ The Force wept soundlessly inside the cavernous vacuum that was Obi-Wan’s Force signature. Ahsoka shuddered viscerally and withdrew.

“What’s wrong?” asked one of the clones nearest to the head of the tank. Despite his lack of marks, the clone was readily distinguishable as belonging to the 212th due to the dense layer of scuff and grime plastering over his armor. And if Ahsoka had the mind to notice then, she would have seen that nearly all of those crammed inside this particular tank were those of Obi-Wan’s unit, as well.

“It’s- I don’t know yet. He’s…” she trailed.

“He’s- He’s still with us, right Commander?” The clone standing next to him elbowed him in the side then, and shot over what was undoubtedly a look of personal offense from underneath his helmet.

“Yeah…” Ahsoka supplied anyway, “At least, it doesn’t… It doesn’t _feel_ the way that the dead feel. There’s just…” she closed her eyes again and resumed her probing, feeling a little more mentally prepared this time around. “There’s just… _Nothing_.” The clones bristled uncomfortably; going off description alone, it certainly _sounded_ like the depiction of a dead person. Silence fell among them. Ahsoka drifted, pouring herself bit by bit into the ample space where her Master was supposed to be, exploring an endless hollow of dilapidated wastes.

Outside atop the climbing AT-TE, Majum bellowed in Huttese to communicate with Anakin over the combined roar of creaking tanks and the crunching of rocks beneath their mammoth claws. The tank housing Cody’s group could be seen a ways down where it dropped from the line: it clung there motionlessly to the canyon wall, streaming a constant pillar of smoke from somewhere on the far side that neither of them could see. As he struggled to keep balanced, Anakin’s attention was additionally divided between the rushed summary of early-model AT-TE mechanics, and the miniscule blips in the Force that signaled him to deflect the incoming sniper bolts. The two debated like this – in brief fragments between shots – until their plan of action was decided and Majum readied his position facing west. Anakin waited just long enough for the next bolt to strike his blade, and then in one fluid motion he drew his breath, took a wide step forward, and catapulted Majum through the air with a great arc of his arms. The Force skittered through his palms and traveled into his feet, powering his own lunge off the tank in pursuit. Red bolts chipped away at the cliffside behind them.

The clones stranded inside the faulty tank thought they’d been hit with yet _another_ missile when the soles of Majum’s heavy boots collided with the front of their craft. With a sudden lurch they were knocked into one another, overhead straps abandoned, scrambling to avoid falling back onto the wounded lying against the closed hatch below. Cody tightened his grip on the stanchion. There was no need to report a second impact – the others already knew that his group wouldn’t be joining them at the top. He also figured they knew that in spite of his promise, “catching up” wasn’t likely the way this situation would end. Everybody knew that a stationary target was more tempting than a moving one. He’d made up his mind on the last trick to try, when to everyone’s surprise, the resounding crash upon their roof turned into a pair of footsteps. _General Skywalker_ , Cody ascertained. He reached toward the hatch. At least, he profoundly _hoped_ it would be General Skywalker on top of his tank, because another option would be forced surrender and subsequent capture by the Sand Wraiths. Or even worse, Cody dreaded, it would be Obi-Wan.

Anakin scaled down the side of the tank opposite from Majum. He reeled away at the thick smoke overtaking his vision, reaching a point near the bottom when the hatch swung open from above and Cody leaned out apprehensively. Anakin coughed. “Commander! Keep the hatch closed! I’m gonna see what I can do about the leak!”

Although this _was_ the best outcome Cody imagined he’d come to, he wasn’t exactly overwhelmed with relief at the sight. Leaning further down in Anakin’s direction, he asserted the authority he was given. “Permission denied, sir! You’ll be blasted _off_ this karking piece of metal! Now get back to the others or _get inside_ before the next missile hits!”

For a moment, Anakin was purely confused. It just wasn’t normal to be _denied_ anything in the voice of a clone. The realization slapped him hard. But if Cody was going to play Obi-Wan for a day, Anakin saw no reason not to treat him as such. “ _Whaaaat?!_ I can’t hear you over the walkers!” he called in an exaggerated tone. And with a satisfied snicker, he doubled his climbing pace and disappeared onto the underside of the fuming AT-TE. Cody watched him go. He pondered in silence for a few seconds after the fact, but ultimately gave up and retreated into the dim cabin’s safety. If _Obi-Wan_ was incapable of taming Anakin, how in the universe did he expect _Cody_ to succeed?

The site of impact was right at the junction where the AT-TE’s left flank met its underside. By the time Anakin reached it, Majum was already fast at work. An array of tools hung heaped together inside of an old leather sack that was looped around a nearby pipe. Majum had managed to keep himself in place with his legs, back to the wall and feet to the vehicle’s underbelly in order to bridge the narrow gap between. He wasted no time in explaining the problems he’d discovered to Anakin: the missile had apparently disrupted the pressure system maintaining the pistons driving the walker’s legs, which caused further damage by collapsing the legs’ suspension. Collecting a few tools from the sack, Anakin volunteered to realign the suspension while Majum stayed in place attempting to re-close the pressure system.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka toiled away with repairs of her own. Buried deep in the void of Obi-Wan’s place in the Force, she came upon a sliver of life, woven like intricate, invisible stitching left haphazard and nowhere near complete. The threads were fragile and overstretched. It took the entirety of Ahsoka’s concentration just to keep track of them; the idea of manipulating them seemed impossible. The longer she struggled, though, the easier it became to see them clearly. At some point unbeknownst to her, Ahsoka slipped into a trance that mirrored Anakin’s from before. Liiqua dutifully instructed the clones to remain quiet. Knowing that Ahsoka might be the only chance at their General’s survival, all of them were happy to oblige. She had just begun to coax the strands from Obi-Wan’s mind into hers when the comm on the wall blared out a mess of static, and the tank to their immediate right took a missile directly to its top hatch. The clones swung and staggered from the transferred shock. Liiqua grit her teeth, and Obi-Wan bolted upright with a startled gasp. Ahsoka, looming over him as she was, met his forehead with an audible _smack_ , and was flung away backwards seeing stars. Obi-Wan groaned similarly, his head landing squarely back into her lap with a hand over his eyes.

“M-master…!” she recovered somewhat, unsure if the room’s shaking was all in her head. Similar exclamations rang out from the clones, temporarily displaced from the fear and anxiety over their brothers’ safety next door. Obi-Wan wrapped an arm over his ribs and sat up strenuously in response. Ahsoka gathered enough of her bearings then to plead for him not to, but he merely blinked and took in the surrounding scene without enthusiasm. His clones were now sideways. There was a pinkish Twi’Lek sitting across from him. The only light in the lopsided room was red. His face slowly receded into his palm.

“…You know at some point in my life I might like to wake up to something mundane.”

Ahsoka felt exhausted just looking at him. “Look, you’re hurt. Like, _really, really hurt._ I think I was getting somewhere with–”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan interrupted, seemingly unaware that she was speaking in the first place, “This is a tank, isn’t it.”

The clones exchanged unreadable glances.

“Yes Master, we’re climbing out of the canyon,” confirmed Ahsoka. “But like I said you’re _really–”_

“And where, pray tell, is Anakin?”

She shrunk into herself at the question, feeling suddenly and inexplicably responsible for her other Master’s decisions. “He’s… Outside,” she conceded.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I don’t know why I even bother asking anymore.” He then made to stand. About twelve different hands pushed him back down with an accompanying hailstorm of “please sir”s and “take it easy sir”s in much the same voice.

“Really now, all of you,” he protested, “I’m just going to take a _look_ , settle _down.”_ There was little else that the clones could do.

Liiqua casually unfastened her shoulder constraints. “If you want him unconscious, little one, I think you should know I have no formal obligations to not harm the Jedi.”

Ahsoka held out her hands in decided objection.

“I like your new friend,” Obi-Wan commented. He cleared his desiccated throat once and paid extensively for the attempt with the most acrid sensation of barbed wire curling into his lungs. His face dug into the crook of his free arm as he coughed viciously. The clones shuffled, nervous about perhaps ten different things going on simultaneously. Sadness filled Ahsoka’s tired eyes, which quickly flipped to adamant disapproval on seeing Liiqua perched upright on the side of her bench, motioning dangerously with her left hand cracking the right one’s knuckles.

“Right–” Obi-Wan said forcibly, “None of that– please–” He scrubbed the fresh blood from his lip with the plastoid plate on the back of his hand. “Now, I’d love to discuss your part in all this at a later time, but you’ll have to pardon me for now.” He stood again, wilting disturbingly easily into the arms of his clones.


	15. Chapter 15

Heaving the top hatch open, Obi-Wan squinted and raised an arm against the bright light outside. To his left he saw two tanks lumbering skyward in a row. The nearest of the pair sported a sizeable black dent on its hood where the most recent missile hit.  Looking to his right, he caught sight of Cody’s inoperable AT-TE below, emitting a column of smoke and hanging anchored to the wall. He muttered something inaudible above the mechanical grind of machines and the howling gusts of sand, then hoisted himself the rest of the way out of the tank before anyone could stop him. With a noise somewhere between a gasp and a snarl, Ahsoka pushed and wriggled her way between the aghast clones and climbed out right after.

“You _said_ you were just going to _look!”_ she yelled, scaling up the tank behind him.

“Well I _might have_ , but it seems no one’s noticed we’re leaving behind a fourth of our men!” He threw an arm sharply in the downed tank’s direction. “Now get back inside!”

Ahsoka swelled in frustration. She was decidedly finished with _both_ of her Masters’ antics. “ _No way._ If you’re gonna try to get yourself killed out here, then I’m staying with you no matter _what_.” The two reached the top in short order.

“ _Fantastic._ Now I’ve _twice_ the insubordinate Padawan to take care of,” Obi-Wan scolded somewhat heartlessly as he stood and brushed away perhaps half a percent of the total soot taking over his armor. In response, Ahsoka’s lightsaber ignited and swung just as a sniper’s bolt would have cleaved through the side of Obi-Wan’s head. She looked at him without humor.

“…All right, fine. You may stay,” he yielded, “But if you insist on being here then I’m going to put you to work.” He rubbed at the blaster wound in his chest and stepped away from the edge. “I want you to stay up top and catch the clones as I evacuate them from the tank below. It’ll be a tight fit, but they’ll have to be loaded into ours. And be sure to escort them in so they aren’t troubled by snipers along the way.”

Ahsoka was about to explain that Anakin and Majum were already in place, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, a second missile struck the tank by their side. Both Jedi were knocked clean off their feet in a blustering spray of orange. The three tanks in line rocked violently and scored the wall as their fingers slipped and clawed. All sound droned into a high-pitched ringing, and when Ahsoka regained enough of her balance to look back at the damage, she saw the next tank over beginning to peel back and away from the wall. “ _No!”_ she cried uselessly, though her own voice was mute to her ears. The very next instant, she saw the same tank stutter and quake, grinding resentfully to a tiresome halt at an impossible angle relative to the wall. The Force _screamed._ She clapped her hands to her head, all at once blind to anything except this disastrous cloud of pain and rot. Ahsoka strained desperately to reinforce the shields around her mind.

Equally as affected despite the distance, Anakin nearly dropped from the underside of Cody’s tank. He clutched the hot metal framework tightly with a shiver that stole over his entire frame. The feeling was unmistakably the same as the one he’d shut himself out from some time ago today, only now it was back with a vengeance that stung like a thousand jagged needles stabbing in from behind his eyes. He didn’t much care about the heat conducting along the metal in his cybernetic hand. It seemed vastly more appealing to let the thing short circuit and burn into his arm, rather than to divert any focus from the maintenance of his mental shields. Once he did manage to cultivate a level of shielding strong enough to bolster against the brutal onslaught of corrosion, he found this time that the terrible phenomenon came with a direction. He turned his attention toward the other three AT-TEs with a start – where previously they’d been climbing in tight formation, the center tank was now bent backwards, frozen precariously as though it was waiting to fall at any second. What was more, the tank he’d just exited was no longer as far along as it was when he’d left it; enormous rents in the canyon wall indicated how far it had slid since the last bombing. But ultimately it was the sight of the two people on _top_ of said tank that had Anakin climbing rapidly to jump to their aid.

Obi-Wan sat slumped on his knees, holding the collapsing tank in place with one trembling arm outstretched before him. Just as miraculously, he kept himself approximately upright with the opposite arm propped against the floor. There was no strategy in this act. With Ahsoka writhing unresponsive and Anakin nowhere in view, the probability of Obi-Wan leveraging the entire tank full of clones back to safety by himself was little to none. Somewhere in the back of his ravaged mind he knew this, but trying to do so nevertheless wasn’t a decision made rationally: if ever there were lives to be saved, Obi-Wan felt it was his duty to save them. And at the end of the day, so long as that goal was accomplished, it didn’t really matter what personal expense he’d have to pay. The mission would _always_ come first. The blood from his nose was pooling on the metal underneath when Anakin landed at his side with a thump that shook the whole tank. He severed Obi-Wan’s trickling focus with a brusque kick to his outstretched arm, and proceeded to gather up the falling AT-TE on his own. He crumpled slightly under its weight and shifted his footing in response. With the hideous monster in the Force now vanquished, Ahsoka too was able to round up her senses. She calmed her convulsive nerves and scraped herself off the front of the tank. It was amazing how _wonderful_ this broken, sodden pit could feel after experiencing whatever _that_ was.

Working together, Anakin and Ahsoka had the doomed tank back on its feet and moving once more. They each felt the same pulse of celebration radiating from inside. To their dismay, however, they weren’t afforded the same moment of respite. Ahsoka drew both her sabers against the bolts flying their way. Three Jedi in one place made a priority target indeed. While she stood in defense, Anakin knelt where Obi-Wan laid twitching on his side. He called his name, shook his arm and rolled him onto his back, but after everything, the most he could elicit from Obi-Wan was a disjointed laugh cut short by the blood welling up in his throat.

“I–” he began with a startled choke that seemed to wake him up a bit, “–I was wondering– where you went.”

Anakin leaned forward in pointed disbelief. Not wanting to force his Master to talk (nor wanting to sift through his insufferable understatement), he looked back to Ahsoka. “Would you mind telling me why the _Sith_ Obi-Wan is out here?!”

She didn’t take her attention from the empty field as she called back. “Hey! It wasn’t my fault! He just sort of– Came out here!” She swatted away another bolt.

“Oh, right, and I’m supposed to believe he was _too fast_ for you to _stop him?!”_

“Don’t be impolite, Anakin,” croaked Obi-Wan with a weak finger in his direction. “Our Padawan has done very well with the situation she’s been–” he paused to cough, “–presented.”

“ _You’re_ supposed to be asleep!”

“I’m not sure that ‘sleeping’ is the correct word for it.”

“Oh would you just–!” Giving up, he turned again to Ahsoka. “Get him back in the tank. And _both_ of you, _stay there!”_

“I don’t recall giving you that kind of authority,” Obi-Wan quipped, yet again. Somehow through his battered, bleeding form, he managed a smile.

 _“I DON’T CARE!”_ Anakin shouted down at him with zero patience.

He rolled his eyes. “Now isn’t _that_ the truth.”

Ahsoka broke their inopportune bantering with a distinctly fearful tone. “ _Master…?!”_ She called to them both, disengaging her lightsabers and taking a slow, backward step toward the wall. Anakin traced her wide gaze to a point on the horizon where a single dot was on rapid approach, trailing behind a steady stream of smoke. His comm lit up in the next second. “General Skywalker! If you’re still out there I am _ordering you_ to _get inside!_ We have a visual on another missile heading our way!”

“Roger that, Cody,” he finally agreed, “What’s the ETA?”

“Less than we have to sit here discussing it, sir! Now get _moving!”_

Anakin drew back from his wrist with an eyebrow raised. Obi-Wan chortled. “Good man, Cody.”

“Obi-Wan. Can you stand?” he asked seriously, electing to ignore Obi-Wan’s satisfaction.

“I’ll give it a go,” he offered in return. With Anakin’s hand at his back, he rose by the waist about halfway before slapping a hand to his mouth and retching forth an appreciable amount of blood.

“Okay, no,” Anakin surmised for him, barely containing a flutter of panic.

“Let’s just– Let’s use the Force to float him down into the hatch!” chirped Ahsoka in much the same state.

“But that’ll take forever!”

“Then I’ll go down first so I can pull him inside!”

“What if you get hit?! Which tank is this thing gonna land on, anyway?!”

“I don’t know!”

Obi-Wan latched onto them both. Taking Anakin’s shoulder in one hand and Ahsoka’s wrist in the other, he jerked them onto the floor before the next missile hit. “Get _DOWN!”_

A swirling sheet of flame washed over their heads while the tank thrashed wildly underneath. The three were tossed this way and that, scrambling for purchase at the smooth metal whenever they could, being sent airborne at any interval they weren’t sliding around. A dense cover of smog flowed over them all the while, affirming that it was in fact _their tank_  which had received the shot this time. The quake seemed to last for hours. It shook every person in and on the AT-TE even after it began to peter out. Anakin, always the first to react, was on his feet before his feet were truly prepared to be stood upon. His body felt like one continuous bruise.

“Ahsoka! Obi-Wan! Are you okay?!” To his frustration, he found himself deaf. Visually at least, Ahsoka made her status known through the grit: off to the side and further away than before, she dragged her head off the tank for a second time and planted her arms in a wobbling position to push herself up. Obi-Wan, conversely, didn’t dare move at all. He landed somewhere nearer the wall and curled in on himself, wondering just how far the Force would go to torture him before it finally let him die. He thought he might’ve been able to find out, when he felt the rough palm of Anakin’s metal hand rap against the less bloodied side of his face. He groaned petulantly and tried to turn away. The patting wouldn’t stop, though, so he gave in at last and opened his eyes to the blurry shapes of his former Padawan, hanging over him and blocking out the sun. His mouth moved – no sound came out. The prospect of telepathy, as a substitute, was _way_ beyond hope. The only remaining form of communication between them would be the haptic or signal-based languages, Obi-Wan considered, though he was quite certain that Anakin hadn’t studied them since the day he passed the class some eight or ten years ago. Still, he was also certain that his usefulness at this point didn’t extend far beyond communication, and so he caught the hand lingering anxiously beside his face and tapped into it a simple message.

Even if Anakin _had_ been keeping up with his studies in unpopular languages, he wouldn’t have had time to decode while the tank serving as their platform started tilting into an angle that would soon have them plummeting toward the desert floor. They abandoned the message at the same time and managed to communicate perfectly with mirrored expressions of alarm.


	16. Chapter 16

Anakin bolted back onto his feet. His eyes shot left, then right, searching frantically for a solution while the tank underneath him continued to shake and lean away from the wall. Ahsoka stared in his direction. She was out of ideas, Obi-Wan was dying, and it looked like their luck had finally reached its limit. Creativity wouldn’t save them this time.

“Both of you! _Jump!”_ yelled Obi-Wan, shoving himself upright on protesting arms.

Either of them might’ve caught hints of the command through the scant remnants of their hearing, but just then, the giant craft carrying them all lurched and threw them flat on their backs. The three of them began to slide toward the edge. Ahsoka spun and waffled clumsily until her hands met the groove of the tank’s front rifle port, which she seized firmly like the lifeline it was. Anakin was not so fortunate. Facing backward, he struggled between finding something to grab and trying to roll to a better position. In the end, he had accomplished neither. With an acute feeling of fear, he felt himself glide off the tank and enter freefall. Time seemed to stop in that instant, perturbed only when he next felt the stern clasp around his ankle, followed by the collision between his forehead and the sharp metal edge of the tank he swung into. His vision went black and he hung limply, suspended upside-down.

Obi-Wan’s grip was failing fast. It was only a question of if he would lose Anakin or the sight port he held onto first. There was no saving these clones after all, he concluded with bleak acceptance. But maybe he could still rescue his apprentice. Ahsoka would be smart enough to leap before the vehicle hit the ground, he expected. She knew how to jump, knew how to land, and she’d already found a way to remain attached to the tank until the last second before it crashed. She would survive on her own. Anakin wouldn’t, but Obi-Wan could take the fall with him; hold him tight against his chest and absorb the shock of the fall in his place. It was a shame that Anakin would have to wake up to a dead Master, of course, but Obi-Wan supposed it would be better than watching him slip away in real time. Qui-Gon would be proud. To die in place of the Chosen One – perhaps that was his role from the very beginning. He let go of the tank.

Gaining speed, Obi-Wan managed to collect Anakin’s unconscious body into his arms well enough, when their fall was roughly and suddenly broken in mid-air. Anakin slipped away from him with a jolt and found himself swinging upside-down once more. Both hands now quivering around one ankle, Obi-Wan looked up to see Ahsoka, nearly hanging upside-down herself by now, sacrificing an arm from her hold on the tank and extending it their way. There wasn’t a way to tell her to let go. Obi-Wan doubted she _would_ even if he tried. As it were, Anakin blinked awake to a warped and swaying scene of desert horizon, letting out a yelp and flailing his arms before taking notice to the fact he wasn’t actually falling.

“You’re– Now _stop_ – You’re only making this _harder!”_ he heard his Master scold from above, though all his senses seemed to be wrapped thoroughly in cotton. His attention shot toward the sky. Obi-Wan trembled with effort above him, apparently some ways below the rest of the tanks and now in line with the one Cody’s group resided in.

 _“Master!”_ he shouted in fright. An agitating sensation pricked his attention to the left, and he ignited his lightsaber just in time to deflect a sniper’s bolt aimed to pierce through his heart. The swing tested Obi-Wan’s withering strength. _“What’s happening?!”_

Unable to answer owing to the blood gurgling inside his throat, Obi-Wan jerked his head up at Ahsoka and the peeling tank. The act unfortunately encouraged said blood to flow in behind his teeth, and he pulled a hand immediately from his hold on Anakin to prevent it from showering them both.

“DON’T LET GO DON’TLETGO–!” Anakin begged with a start. It wouldn’t be the first time his Master’s insistence on civility nearly resulted in their deaths. Panicked and swatting bolts from an awkward position, Anakin appealed to the only other authority figure left in the area. _“CODYYY?!”_ he invoked from his comm.

Cody drew back from the periscope inside his tank, the desperate tone filling the cabin and garnering the attention of every other clone in addition. “General Skywalk–” he started, cut off as soon as Anakin found he was listening.

“I DON’T KNOW IF THERE’S ANYTHING YOU CAN DO RIGHT NOW BUT YOU MIGHT WANNA LOOK OUTSIDE,” he cried in one long, continuous word. Cody wasted no time. He staggered and strained and pushed the hatch open, only to freeze there in the opening and balk at the unfolding disaster. The tank was keening away from the wall on its final set of legs. Ahsoka hung by an arm from the rifle port. Anakin hung by an ankle with his lightsaber batting away shots like a there was a swarm of insects in front of him, and both he and Obi-Wan floated magically underneath the machine’s growing shadow. Ignoring the clones squeezing their heads through the hatch to get a view alongside him, Cody withdrew and shoved away those in his path to the inter-AT-TE comm unit on the wall. _“ASCENSION CABLES!”_ he shouted over and over again, hoping against hope that the likeness in clone mentality might translate the haphazard plan in lieu of the time needed to elaborate.

Within seconds, the hatches on either side of the peeling tank were unhinged, and a web of ascension cables shot through and pierced the walls. The clones inside pulled without reserve, some of them even disengaging the magnets in their shoes to add gravity to the force behind their arms. Several cables snapped in the process. A few broke loose from the wall, too, but through the clones’ power combined, the tank slowed to a stop where it neared an angle parallel with the ground. Any delay would’ve had them all hurtling down, pinning both Generals underneath and crushing everyone aboard. Cody didn’t stop calling, knowing the comms were old and prone to failure, until his men at the hatch reported success with fists held high and victory cries permeating the cabin. He finally released the call button. His helmet clanked wearily against the wall. In that small moment of release, the comm on his wrist blinked into life. He expected another panicked call from General Skywalker. What he received was a rather unenthused voice of a clone.

“Hey uh, Commander?” it began, horribly nonchalant and infuriatingly at ease with the situation, “Me an’ Switch’ve been out here a while, and we’ve spotted some Wraiths hangin’ around what looks like a setup for launching– ‘oop, yep, they’re loadin’ a missile on it. Permission to fire?”

Cody wanted to scream. Wanted to simultaneously award Boil and Switch every damn medal in the set and knock them senseless for even asking his permission. Instead, he raised his wrist up to his face, head yet propped against the wall, and responded with all the tact expected of his rank: “Permission granted, boys. Make ‘em dance.”

Far away and well out of sight from the calamity occurring further north, Boil lowered the macrobinoculars he used to spy on the group of Sand Wraiths sending missiles up at the larger group of clones. He was perched on top of the heavy cannon in the speeder, stripped from the most recent enemy tank they fought almost two hours ago. He sent a nod down in Switch’s direction. Switch sat casually at the driver’s position with his helmet off and returned the nod with a grin. “Hold on tight, Boil. Let’s give ‘em a taste of their own medicine, eh?” He picked his helmet up from the passenger seat and plopped it over his head.

Boil manned the first of the two railguns. It wasn’t as powerful as the tank cannon, he figured, but the rate of fire would be much faster – better to create a scare and scatter the enemy. He and Switch had plenty of time joy riding through the wasteland to discuss the quirks and qualities of their recently acquired ship-ful of guns. They rode full-speed toward the launch site of unsuspecting Nikto. _“Ready…?”_ asked Switch, leaning forward and tapping his fingers against the wheel in anticipation. Boil reciprocated the gesture, eyes on the target, and waited for just the right moment. “… _NOW!”_

The speeder came upon the Sand Wraiths like a bullet, armed to the teeth and shielded beyond hope of retaliation. It drifted in a wide arc as Switch veered the controls, Boil firing relentlessly into their ranks. Switch timed the skid carefully to orient his partner’s aim, such that together, they encompassed the site completely in one tight semi-circle. The two hollered obscenities in unison. The Sand Wraiths, unguarded and utterly defenseless, darted to and fro to avoid fire. One moment they rushed to gather their guns, the next moment found them fleeing in peril from the chain shot digging smoldering pits at their feet. It wasn’t long before most of the Nikto – those surviving the ambush – were abandoning their gear and running madly for their own vehicles to make a hasty and undefended escape. Boil made quick work of any guns they had attached. He allowed for a peaceful escape out of respect for the General he knew would prefer mercy. He and Switch stood from their seats in a sardonic salute while the enemy took off into the distance. “All clear, sir,” Boil reported back to Cody.


	17. Chapter 17

When Cody returned to the open hatch, he found the previously-doomed tank being pulled up ahead, slowly but surely back onto its feet against the canyon wall. It felt surreal knowing this rescue would proceed missile-free. In fact, now that Cody thought of it, the whole operation was practically guaranteed to go smoothly - with the ballistic assault out of the way courtesy of Boil and Switch. The only remaining source of interference would be the presence of snipers, though it seemed they were only around to prevent anyone from going outside the AT-TEs: a plan which had clearly become little more than a nuisance, rather than insurance. Macrobinoculars raised, he watched the Generals ascend together once the craft was stable enough for Ahsoka to take a position that enabled the use of her other arm. Even insensitive to the Force, Cody imagined she must be exhausted. He zoomed in on top of their tank where the Generals were dropped in a heap. Unsurprisingly, Ahsoka collapsed without greetings. General Skywalker disentangled himself from General Kenobi then, and seemed to shuffle for a time in indecision between attending to his Master or his apprentice. General Kenobi managed to drag himself onto his knees in the meantime, only to heave up another half a lung’s worth of blood and thereafter follow the example of Ahsoka. Cody, having had enough of the show, lifted his arm yet again. “General Skywalker. The source of the missiles has been eliminated. Report status.” He received no response. Watching his own General lying immobile from afar, it took a fair amount of discipline to keep his voice level. “I said report _status_ , General Skywalker.”

Gasping in short breaths on his back, Obi-Wan motioned weakly for Anakin to answer his comm. Anakin shook his head in defiance. He leaned over his Master just as before, eyes on the verge of tears, attempting through tattered concentration to reenter the healing trance he began back when he thought things couldn’t get any worse. Cody contacted Ahsoka instead. He watched her tired body flop to the side at the transmission’s end, confirming its receipt, and then saw her sit up, head drooping, raising the comm to her mouth at last.

“…Commander…?” she sounded drained beyond measure.

“I said the missiles won’t be a problem anymore, sir. Report status.” He watched painfully as she glanced over in the other Jedi’s direction. If only sympathy could heal wounds.

“…Master Anakin…’s got it covered,” she mumbled vaguely. Cody watched her topple to the side. She wouldn’t answer further calls.

Cody considered taking the ascension cable from his own belt and hopping over to address the situation more personally, but aside from being unwilling to leave his men unattended during a crisis, their entire tank revved loudly to no one’s expectation, and started to crawl again with unprecedented speed and vigor. The clones inside looked at each other in perplexity. As far as they knew, their tank was being serviced by General Skywalker, who was now well-understood to be aboard a different tank. Nevertheless, they all gave a cheer. Majum rode silently on the underside of their machine, accepting a moment to enjoy the fruits of his labor before beginning the climb to the top to resume his work mowing down another set of snipers.

All in all, Cody settled for the indirect approach. He had the clones inside the Jedi’s tank coax or carry everyone on top back inside by any means necessary, and monitored the operation’s progress from below. He found that the hatch’s heavy door made an effective shield against blaster fire, to his gratification, and became quite comfortable after a while hearing the bolts ping away uselessly right next to his head. During the otherwise refreshing climb up to the top, it was discovered that Cody’s tank had acquired a second anti-sniper feature, in the form of Majum’s obnoxious cannon that discharged on time about every ten seconds. No one had witnessed a red bolt in several minutes by the time the final vehicle crested the cliffs and returned to a normal angle heading north. The injured resting on the bottommost hatches inside were maneuvered quickly onto the floor at that same moment, cutting short anyone’s desire to celebrate. In response to the sudden overflow, Cody authorized a number of rather eager volunteers to exit the cramped interior and ride the rest of the way on the hood. The threat of being sniped was practically neutralized at the sight of Majum outside. He stood with the clones, ready and inert with his visor at his scope, stepping in a slow circle at the highest point on the AT-TE as it crawled ahead.

Anakin spent the first half of the arduous return trip with his face buried in his Master’s chest. He cried there unabashedly, clutching Obi-Wan’s singed robes and bearing his soul for all to see. The men of the 212th present with him made a tacit vow never to speak of the scene to anyone but those who witnessed it in person. Most fortunately, however, neither Obi-Wan nor Ahsoka were awake to experience the same loss in confidence. Liiqua accepted the unofficial title as caretaker for Ahsoka while she slept, adorned with cuts, bruises and burns, slumping resignedly against her shoulder. Eventually Anakin calmed down to a level that enabled him to resume healing. The clones guessed this was the case, at any rate; at some point the cabin took on an eerie sort of quiet in the absence of his sobs.

Emotions between the troops were mixed as they were strong. Some clones enjoyed a jovial game of volley between the tanks as they rode on top. Others remained haunted by the battle, huddled close inside their cabins as though the ground might collapse at any second. Others yet were just confused. Was there still a 501st? Who were they supposed to look to for orders? Did a clone Commander really supersede a General today? Was General Kenobi presumed KIA? To be a clone was to have a well-defined place in the Grand Army of the Republic, from the very day one was manufactured. The current lack of identity that many felt was disconcerting in a way they hadn’t even imagined. This, of course, was just another item on the to-do list being compiled by Cody the entire way back to the outpost.

Cody was not relieved, nor scared, nor upset in any way. If anything, upon reaching level ground above the canyon, it finally hit him at full capacity just what it meant to be responsible for two battalions with no one to delegate to. While commanding a battle, things were comparatively easy: orders were relayed and executed as the situation evolved. But in times of peace? Without the immediacy and urgency of combat, the true burden of rank emerged. Clones would need to be re-divided and re-appropriated with new hierarchy according to their preestablished ranks. The Jedi Council would need to be notified of the mission’s adjustment in light of Obi-Wan’s absence and Anakin’s loss of authority. The camp up north would need new orders and a temporary shift in chain of command. The mission report would need dramatic updates, and the corresponding casualty report was to be significantly expanded. There was additionally the company of the uninvited Twi’Lek and the apparently-unaffiliated Sand-Wraith-looking person to be accounted for, Cody remembered, to say nothing of the unresolved status of his General’s _life._ This short ride across the desert was to be absolutely _cherished_ , Cody realized, and in the span of about fifteen minutes, he typed furiously upon his datapad like the fate of the war depended on it.

He contacted the outpost with approximated numbers and descriptions of the injuries they would be expected to treat. He ordered medical staff up front in the hangar, re-authorized the tower’s use of its cannons (conditional upon Cody’s express approval), and requested outpost-stationed officers to report along with the medical staff for briefing on the newly reorganized hierarchy. As a result, no one missed a beat when the last of the tanks lined up at the creaky old entrance to the outpost’s bottom floor. The injured were expertly escorted in file to the disused facilities. Anakin was allowed to accompany Obi-Wan to the hastily prepared emergency room once it became apparent he was deeply involved in some healing procedure that none of the clones wanted to make assumptions about. In the meantime, Cody directed those outstanding to wait at attention until all were arranged as ordered. He stood in front of them, taut and imposing, save for the sniper rifle besmirching his image. Once again he relied on it to keep him upright, propped under his left arm while his helmet was tucked firmly under his right.

“…You’ve done a good job out there, men,” he began. “The stakes were high, but we proved today that it takes more than a few lousy missiles to see _us_ surrender.” He sprang deftly on his crutch to meet the other half of the amassed clones. “Now, I know it’s unclear the way things turned out with command. So let’s get one thing straight: at the core of every clone’s training is a foundation of personal integrity. And that means no matter the situation, no matter who is or isn’t around to give orders, we keep our eyes on the mission and our loyalty with the Jedi. With that in mind, I’d like to confirm to all of you that as of today, General Kenobi has placed me in charge of the 212th Attack Battalion. It is also true that I have been entrusted with authority over General Skywalker.”

A minor stir of head-turning and foot-shifting rose among the clones, then dissipated on its own without a sound. Cody anticipated the disruption. He allotted a short space of silence before moving on.

“It is not my place to decide if this assignment will be temporary or permanent, but as good soldiers, I expect every one of you to adapt to the situation without complaint. I will also make it clear that I still recognize the 501st as an existing military unit.”

A cascade of relief permeated a decent majority of the troops at those words. Cody paced back into his original position.

“However. For the time being, we’re operating without the direct oversight of the Jedi. That means we’re all going to make some adjustments until further notice. Specifically, while I also recognize the _retention_ of General Skywalker’s rank,” he stressed, “I want all matters isolated within the 501st to be reported to Captain Rex. And Captain Rex? Any of these reports in need of elevation will be brought to _my_ attention first.” He locked eyes with Rex standing militant up front. “501 st, have I made myself clear?”

Each man belonging to the unit stood straighter on address, and answered in a crisp, enthusiastic, “Sir! Yes sir!” But underlying his perfect salute, Rex sincerely hoped he’d find the time soon to mock his friend – he simply _couldn’t_ be the only clone of the bunch watching the very picture of Obi-Wan himself up there, tending to administrative duties with a big black hole from a blaster bolt in his leg. Cody elaborated for some time longer. He went about distributing tasks among sections of the 501st, divided by Lieutenants and their respectively assigned cohorts. Nothing too important, not to be shoving the men from one job to another, but important enough that no clone felt his place in the mission came to a standstill when the Jedi were off duty. A sizeable collection of the 501st were set to make preparations to depart to the camp further north housing the greater lot of the 212th brought in to Florrum. The camp was due for a supply run, anyway, and fresh troops would be something of a gift. …Until they learned that their General wouldn’t be rejoining them, that is.


	18. Chapter 18

For the remainder of the first day at the outpost, the clones bustled along busily as though nothing had happened to dampen their moods. It was through his management and decisive re-ordering that Cody had successfully instilled the air of _work to be done_ , thereby preventing the troops from dwelling too long on the frankly dismal state of the mission so far: the Jedi were down, the perimeter was left undefended, and no one was any closer to understanding the enemy's motives. Morale, along with every other facet of the operation, was teetering on a single clone’s ability to keep everything afloat. But if all continued going well, not a man would pause to consider how close to failure they actually were. Cody counted himself lucky that nobody thought to ask him if General Kenobi was still alive; he’d purposefully excluded any mention of that ambiguity through the duration of his speech. Even so, he did request periodic updates from the chief medical officer. Cody next set about verifying the identities and purposes of the unexpected guests: Liiqua explained for both of them that she and Majum were informants brought in from Vinnesta, by leave of Ahsoka, with intent to aid her mission. They were extensively searched and eventually cleared to take quarters inside the tower until Ahsoka was well enough to confirm or deny their statement. It did little good for Cody’s growing headache that they both argued against the relinquishment of their weaponry.

The first set of medical reports came in while he was drawing up ideas for a second camp of clones to be stationed to the west. He didn’t want to read them. For all his maturity demonstrated earlier, he so intensely wanted to leave those ominous messages undisturbed, as if any ill news contained within would only become real the instant he laid eyes on them. And what if the file titled ‘Kenobi’ was nothing more than a series of numbers depicting his date and time of death? What then? _It wouldn’t make a karking difference,_ Cody hammered into his mind. But it was no use. Lacking the focus to carry on, he abandoned the holomap spread wide in front of him and sat in the folding chair nearby. Such was his position when he was located at last by Rex and three clones of the 212th.

“Told’ya he’d be in there,” commented Switch with an arm held in front.

“Thanks,” responded Rex, “Now how’s about giving us a moment of privacy?”

“Aye Captain,” Switch granted in return, leading the other two men down the hall with a lazy overhead sweep of his arm.

Rex didn’t much appreciate the informal demeanor, nor the old joke, but he elected not to add to Cody’s problems by tacking on one less-than-ideal attitude of a subordinate. He leaned inside the open door of the hangar’s dusty office.

“Commander. Permission to enter?”

Cody removed the hand supporting the weight of his head and looked back in Rex’s direction. “At ease,” he said with a sigh. Rex stepped up behind him.

“I take it you read the news,” he prompted. Cody’s palm found his face once more.

 _“Stars_ , Rex, don’t _ever_ start a conversation that way.”

Rex muffled a laugh at his blatant exasperation. This was _really_ not the time to be so cruel. “All right, all right. But hey, it could’ve turned out worse.”

“Just quit with the decorations and tell me what you have to say,” Cody grumbled at his optimism.

“I’m talking about the medical reports,” he stated. “I know you’re getting ‘em too.”

“And?” Cody still refused to put forth the effort required to get up and turn his chair around.

“And… You haven’t read them, have you,” Rex pieced together at last.

“It wouldn’t make a lick’a difference if I did, now would it?”

Rex lowered the datapad in hand and set it gently upon the table. Given the terrific display of leadership not long ago, it was easy to forget that sitting here was a man who’d just spent eight days being ambushed in the desert. Rex plucked a chair where it laid against the wall and propped it open with a squeak in front of Cody. He sat. The hole in his friend’s thigh was still there.

“…Why don’t you take a minute to go get yourself cleaned up,” he suggested more quietly.

Cody was unenthused. He fought with Rex in a soundless battle of wills, staring endlessly until he forfeited with the question he’d hitherto been too proud to ask.

“Kenobi’s dead, isn’t he.” His face was empty.

Rex shifted his weight back and folded his arms in front. “Not yet,” he responded with hesitation. “Couple’a leaks in the brain, believe it or not. Facilities here might not be able to handle it.”

“Then we’ll call for a transfer,” Cody retorted immediately, yet calmly.

“That’s an option. ...If you wanna risk driving ‘im fifty klicks to the landing site. You know better than I do what happens to aircraft around these parts.”

More talk of missiles was off the menu for sure.

“So what, it’s up to chance?”

“Looks like it to me. General Skywalker’s doing _something_ with the Force to help him along, I guess. We’ll recruit Commander Tano as well as soon as she’s up. I mean, assuming it’s the sort of thing you _can_ just pile more muscle on to. She’ll be the judge of that, ‘course.”

Cody turned his gaze down in contemplation. “And how about the men?”

“Lost a few on the ride up. Everyone who made it here has been stabilized.”

“I see. All things considered that’s not a bad outcome.”

“Everyone except one, you know,” Rex continued mysteriously. Cody never enjoyed his penchant for the dramatic. “…That’s you, Commander.”

“Me?” Cody startled in earnest confusion. “What are you–”

Rex stretched out a leg and batted his new commanding officer’s knee with his right foot. Cody vaulted forward on cue and gripped his punctured thigh with both hands. _“Dammit_ Rex!” he snarled in pain.

“Get it fixed, Cody. You want to tell me this _isn’t_ how General Kenobi started out?” Somewhere in the past five minutes any sentiment of difference in rank dissolved between them.

“There’s a _few_ things I want to _tell_ you, that’s for bloody sure.”

Rex cackled as he stood from his chair. “You can tell me on the operating table. C’mon. If we go now, I’ll make sure they don’t drug ya too bad.” He held out his hand. Cody grimaced, but took it nonetheless.

 

\- - -

 

On the second day at the outpost, Ahsoka woke and was discharged with matching stitches on bandaged legs. During her evaluation, she gathered that Anakin was closed off in Obi-Wan’s room, bound in a trance and unresponsive since yesterday evening. On her way to report for the summons from Rex, she was greeted heartily at the hangar by a whole slew of clones who most definitely seemed _way_ too energetic for what she recalled as her last waking memory out in the field. They poured onto her their thanks and congratulations, leaving Ahsoka feeling almost like they’d all won some kind of victory, rather than having barely survived a hard and uncertain escape. Any semblance of the feeling was neatly swept aside when she piped up and asked to see Cody. The clones fell quiet then – nervous, even. Kix was the first to step up and explain.

“Right, ah, about Commander Cody," he fumbled. "He’s doing fine, not to cause any worry, but you might… Not… Well, let’s just say I’m fairly sure he hasn’t slept in a few days.”

Feeling the description was inadequate, Gander joined in from the side. “Made me re-catalog the entire fragging outpost’s armory just for askin’ an update on the General. Just– Don’t talk to ‘im right now, Commander Tano. If you know what’s best.”

True to their words, on Ahsoka’s path toward locating Rex, she discovered Cody among the crowded hangar. He leered about piercingly upon his crutch – a real one this time, to her approval – and monitored everyone’s work with unwavering scrutiny. She wondered how Gander brought up the courage to approach him at all. Rex was fast to guide her away from his laser-like line of sight. “Good thing I found you when I did,” he reassured. The air leading up to the room containing Obi-Wan and Anakin was hostile and dark, but Ahsoka said nothing of it, knowing the feeling was imperceptible to anyone but herself.

“This is it,” Rex informed her at the entryway.

“…Okay.” she accepted with bravery.

Inside the unlit hospital room, Anakin sat with his back turned, hunched in a chair beside Obi-Wan’s bed. His frame occluded much of their elder Master’s condition, and instinct warned her to walk forward with caution. Reaching the forefront of the forbidding scene, she found Anakin’s eyes were half-lidded and unblinking. Like Obi-Wan before, he was entirely absent in the Force. Obi-Wan, lying still with his face in Anakin’s direction, was breathing artificially through the assistance of a complex array of small tubes. He wouldn’t react at her touch. A surge of anger coursed through Ahsoka then, that neither of them had bothered to teach her the basics of Force healing. It wasn’t her natural inclination, she admitted, nor was it theirs, but still it was difficult to ignore the importance of such an ability while the two people most dear to her were so obviously teasing the line between life and death. These things withstanding, she made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed. She stretched thin branches of herself into the Force on bended knees, waiting restlessly for the first thing their fingers would hit. Only a moment later, it felt as though an invisible shield of transparisteel developed within the Force and arrested her probing at once. The profane amalgamation of presences before her was unlike anything she had experienced. Obi-Wan was missing. Anakin was missing, too. But in the bond woven between them, a new sort of energy was writhing, contorted over itself and positively pulsing with all the elements of either half. This was something well beyond the books she might ever have been shown. When she tried to pry into their strangled, knotted space again, she was completely and abruptly repulsed. Ahsoka resigned from meditation. She slipped away from her place on the bed, closed Anakin’s eyes with the Force, and settled Obi-Wan’s arms more comfortably upon his chest.

“Commander Tano,” Rex acknowledged her exit from the room in surprise. “How’s everything look?”

She let the door slide closed on its own before speaking. “There’s nothing I can do, Captain. I wish I could’ve… I mean, if I was able to start from the beginning with Master Anakin… But by now he’s just way too… It- it doesn’t matter.” She waved her hands to eliminate her rambling. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more.”

“It’s not a problem,” Rex consoled through her feelings of inadequacy, “Those are the two best men we have in the army; so long as they’re willing to work for it, I know they’ll come back to us in one piece.”


	19. Chapter 19

Another day had passed since the troops made it back to the outpost. It was sometime around mid-afternoon when Anakin emerged from Obi-Wan’s room like a corpse, shrinking away from the lights and balancing unsteadily with his full weight against the wall. He was collected from the floor soon thereafter by several members of the outpost-stationed medical staff, who notified both Cody and Rex while carting him to the nearest examination room. Cody, however, had departed from the tower that morning. Meaning to spend the first half of the day getting everyone else in line with the newly established order of things, he left with the section of 501st that was designated to resupply the group further north. In his stead, Rex gathered up Ahsoka and the two arrived at the indicated room merely minutes later. Anakin was swaddled there in a trauma blanket, mumbling and unsure of himself, sitting alone in the small room on a hospital cot. He did not acknowledge their entrance. Paying respect to the sacred relationship between a Jedi and his Padawan, Rex deliberately paused to allow Ahsoka to approach the situation first.

“Master, are you okay?” she asked quietly, closing in on Anakin from the side. His Force signature was muddled and dim.

“Ahsoka,” he interrupted himself, although his gaze did not shift from its rigid trajectory toward the ground. “Have you ever just… Stared into the suns?”

Ahsoka looked back at Rex for advice. But Rex could find nothing to give.

“Uh… I guess so…?” she replied warily. “Are you feeling–”

“That’s what he’s like,” Anakin went on. “ _Force_ it’s just…” He finally turned in her direction. “There was just _so. Much. Light._ I- I can’t even describe it to you. I used like- Well okay so I took away _everything I had_ that felt more like Obi-Wan than me, and then I used that to try and… I don’t know, rebuild? But it wasn’t in the right place. It wouldn’t _work_ where _I_ was in the Force, and it was too _far_ to do it where _he’s_ supposed to be, so I just… _Ahsoka._ It was like we were the same _thing,”_ he implored upon her, “And it was _SO_ kriffing _bright.”_

Rex was practically melting in his effort not to laugh. It wasn’t so much the nonsense being babbled by his pale and incoherent General, but the look of consternation pasting over Ahsoka’s face as she tried to keep up.

“That’s um… Well, did it work? Is Master Obi-Wan okay? You didn’t… Hurt yourself, did you?” she attempted.

Anakin shook his head with eyes wide and returned his interest to the floor. “I have no _idea_ what I did. I just kept throwing stuff into our bond and I was pulling stuff back and– I think I can speak Imzigian now. I don’t even know what an Imzig _is.”_

Ahsoka fiddled mindlessly with the Padawan charm behind her right montral. She’d heard of the Jedi being capable of sharing certain memories, but to her recollection the technique was both delicate and extremely advanced. “Throwing and pulling stuff” just didn’t seem to fit the description. As she continued to twiddle in silence, Rex took the fidgety behavior as his signal to intervene.

“I… Think you should make this less complicated, Commander. Try asking one question at a time. Minimum words only.” He was glad to see that Anakin didn’t take offense to the suggestion, if at all it was heard.

“Oh, right. Okay,” she accepted immediately, turning back to her Master. “Master Anakin, are you okay?”

Rex thought she could’ve made do with just one word, but he knew he’d have his turn later if this trial flopped as well. All the same, Anakin responded with a rushed (and probably insincere) string of, “Yeah I’m fine I’ll be all right.”

“Do you… Know where we are?” Ahsoka investigated next. She supposed a test might prove more convincing than his hurried tone.

“What? _Yes_ I know where we are,” he began with a twinge of insult, before glancing about the room for hints and eventually breaking down in resignation. “…It’s… Corellia…?”

“We’re still on Florrum,” she corrected with a huff. “But it’s not important. What about Master Obi-Wan?”

“He’s _definitely_ here.” Adding to his confidence, Anakin removed an arm from his spacious blanket to point at the vacant corner of the room. Ahsoka and Rex could only assume that Obi-Wan might be seen in that direction if the walls were torn down. They genuinely hoped this was the case, anyhow.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she struggled in growing frustration, “I meant– just– Is Obi-Wan okay?”

At this, Anakin appeared to falter. His brow once again took on the furrow it had adopted earlier when he had tried to explain his excursion with the Force. “…I think so,” he reported with ambivalence. “I don’t know if I did anything right, but I left when the Force was too bright to do anything with. And that wasn’t me. I remember pulling whenever I caught on to anything that felt like Obi-Wan, and at some point it started to feel like he was pulling back. So… Improvement?” he shrugged.

“Now, I’m not gonna say I know bantha spit about the Force,” Rex interjected with caution, “But judging by the fact General Skywalker’s even here, I think it’s safe to assume General Kenobi’s on the mend.”

Ahsoka considered this. “I guess that makes sense. And now that they’re separated, I can go look for myself.” She moved to stand up in front of Anakin. “I’m gonna go check on Master Obi-Wan. Is there… Anything I can get for you? Or do you just want to, I don’t know, go to sleep?” A week’s worth of self-determination was beginning to ebb at her desire to be in charge. But lamentably for her, Anakin was in no condition to lead.

“…Can you just, make sure that Obi-Wan is here, once he’s back up? I’m kind of fuzzy on the mission details, so I’m gonna sit tight for a minute to clear my head. But after that he can purge reports at me for as long as he wants.” It hung indeterminate whether or not Anakin was aware that a hundred others on site were prepared to fulfill the role he’d requested. But having made his orders known, he then morphed his way onto the pillow that came supplied with the cot. The remaining two conscious beings in the room sent each other a quizzical look, and turned the lights down on their way into the hall.

The visit with Obi-Wan was less enlightening. No amount of provocation would rouse him, but after a longish period of meditation that edged on the limits of Rex’s patience, Ahsoka was pleased to declare that she’d uncovered some vestiges of his old self. Fragments only, of course, but comparing this to the mutilated, vacuous crater he was before, she couldn’t help but crack a smile. It was also curious to note that not a sliver of the intense light recounted by Anakin would appear to her senses. The most Ahsoka found were more akin to tiny sparks, like specs of coal drifting here or there with the hope of igniting something more flammable. She was tempted to try and stoke them through the fledgling bond they weren’t supposed to have, but as with any fire, the prospect of snuffing it out with an overabundance of fuel was just too much of a risk for her to take. The excess daylight was thus spent collecting information from Liiqua and Majum at the behest of Rex, who insisted that doing so ahead of time would greatly reduce the workload he expected they’d all receive on Cody’s return.

 

\- - -

 

It was in the night that followed, just after 300 hours Standard, when the door to Obi-Wan’s room was sent flying with a crash into the opposite wall.

“…Oh. Oh my. Well that isn’t what I intended to do at all,” came the apologetic voice from within as Obi-Wan stepped out meekly to examine his work. The motion-activated lights overhead were triggered just then, in precisely the same time it took for him to turn his head up and become liberally drenched by the door-injured sprinkler system. The rest of the hallway’s ceiling spouts, to his resentment, were quick to follow suit. The security clones who reported to the scene were confounded by the amount of chaos that one Jedi could produce in fewer than thirty seconds. Upon their arrival, Obi-Wan was attempting to lift the damaged door with the Force, now being careful to apply a level of effort well below that which he was acclimatized to using.

“Ah– hello there. Terribly sorry about all this; it seems I’ve reverted into a youngling overnight. Would anyone mind finding the _off_ switch for the fire protection system?” he asked politely through the rain.

While one clone ran to locate the breaker, those remaining helped stabilize the panel against the wall where Obi-Wan directed it to lay. Their labors aside, by the time the sprinklers had ceased, everyone was thoroughly soaked.

A guard among the squad pulled off his helmet and shook the water away at his side. “It’s good to see you awake, sir, but just for future reference, there _is_ a call button in every room,” he complained.

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan taunted back, “I suppose it’s just as good to keep the men on their toes.” He brushed at his wet hair and squeezed a stream of water from the hem of his gown. “Now tell me, do you know where I might find Commander Cody? Commander Tano, if he is indisposed.” Something in the Force made it blaringly obvious that Anakin was alive, though very much tired.

The unshielded clone lifted a chastising eyebrow his way. “Begging your pardon, but do you know what time it is?” The hands on his hips and the disgruntled tilt to Obi-Wan’s head indicated his answer plainly. “It’s three hours past midnight, sir.”

“…I see,” he contemplated in response. As he thought on this, it occurred to him just how poorly this entire re-entrance was planned. “And could you tell me what day it is?” he continued on, “Moreover… Where are we?”

The clones informed him that it had been four days since the troops came up from the south to the outpost on Florrum. They listed out what scant details they heard, to which Obi-Wan was absolutely horrified on learning how long he was kept from his duty. Try as they did, even going so far as to cite the mandate for his condition, the clones could not convince him to go back to sleep. In the end, the group met a compromise: Obi-Wan was supplied with a datapad and escorted to the unoccupied mess hall. It was there where he sat for the next couple of hours, binge-ing on reports instead of the food he was provided, trying in desperation to convince himself that Cody had taken care of everything in his absence.


	20. Chapter 20

Obi-Wan paced back and forth repeatedly in front of Cody’s door in the medbay. He traced his Commander with the Force to this very room, but as he approached, it became increasingly obvious that said man was still asleep there inside. Obi-Wan glanced at the chronometer on the wall for the twenty-eighth time this morning: 600 hours Standard. Considerably late, for a clone. His strides were stiff and impatient. His arms were folded tight across his chest, one hand tapping his bicep incessantly while the other secretively clutched the bottle of far-too-mild pain medication he’d liberated in a desperate raid from an empty room nearby. The drugs he was receiving on IV had worn away nearly an hour ago, leaving Obi-Wan with an indomitable tremor and a profound degree of regret. He could no longer pick up on the coldness fluttering over his skin from the accident with the sprinklers a bit earlier. But having carried himself all this way, he was yet unwilling to resign himself back to his bed.

Staying in motion helped to preserve his focus and drive away the pain. Ordinarily he could achieve something close to a zero state where bodily feeling was concerned, but that level of transcendence required the Force. And the Force was, at present, a terribly painful thing to concentrate on. It would therefor be somewhat of a counterproductive exercise to suffer through _that_ in addition, just to release the same amount of pain that the act generated. Connecting with the Force was supposed to feel natural. But for the past few days (minus that glorious moment fresh off the IV) it was rather like some Sithly demon that Obi-Wan suffered to summon each time. His eyes found the chronometer again: 600 hours – and _one detestable minute_. He scrubbed angrily at the blaster wound stinging brutally inside of his chest. There was a blunt, grating sensation pervading his body, like sandpaper on his bones and rusted needles in his skin. He’d had enough. Once it was clear that the next trip down the hall would have him collapsed on the spot, Obi-Wan put an end to his pacing and planted his back to the wall next to the door hiding Cody. He paused there for a time, scuffing the floor with bare feet, fingering the worthless container of pills, pushing his hair back with trembling hands… Existence was agony. He glared at the chronometer again: a blurred set of red figures glared back.

Of course it was futile to pray to the thing – Obi-Wan was perfectly aware that the numbers could climb indefinitely and still pose no bearing on the time at which his Commander would emerge. The chronometer was simply a staple; it provided a notion of progress, as opposed to the stagnating pool he otherwise felt himself to be drowning in. While the numbers peaked on illegible as his condition declined, it was as if that lifeboat had sailed. Obi-Wan judged it prudent then that he make a decision. Dwindling on endlessly like this would probably result in unconsciousness soon, which would be productive to no one and a burden on staff. Waking up Cody, by comparison, would be terribly discourteous, knowing full well that the reason for his being late to rise must be serious indeed. Continuing to waffle this way would be synonymous with option one, meaning when put together, it was wholly unavoidable that Obi-Wan was about to encumber _someone’s_ good day. Careening forward with his head drooping low, the last of his power was sent to his arm. He slung his fist back, and it collided with the door at his side.

Cody shot to attention from the desk where he laid. He cringed in response, neck stiff from the sideways position he took in the evening when he’d promised to merely “rest his eyes.” He’d kept the room after his surgery for the leg sling it harbored, conveniently placed over the end of the bed as if he actually planned to use it for sleep. The chronometer in the room read 06:03. Cody exhaled in a sigh. _Bad example to the men,_ he scolded internally, before the sound of a shuffling outside captured his curiosity. He wavered as he stood. The lights were too bright, the air was too dry, and his crutch was annoying to fit with his armor. Minor complaints, every one of them, but this entire mission was _built_ out of minor complaints and Cody had never wanted to wake up on Coruscant so badly. When the door to his room opened out into the hall, there was no one to greet. He blinked heavily once, and jumped out of his skin at the sight of his General slumped over on the ground to the left.

 _“General!”_ he shouted involuntarily, before tossing the crutch and dropping to his knees. He pawed viciously to get at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan awoke with a start of equivalent caliber. He jerked away at the touch and reached for his lightsaber, grabbing at air until he made sense of the form in front of him. “Cody! Oh I was– _Nngh–”_ he managed to reply, hit almost instantaneously with an intense rush of pressure behind his eyes.

“ _I need a medic over here!”_ Cody yelled loud through the facility. He found a bandaged hand over his mouth the very next moment from the crippled man below.

“ _CODY,”_ Obi-Wan admonished him quietly, threatening deadly warning by way of expression. “I _just_ came to talk about the _mission,”_ he urgently appealed.

Cody was dumbstruck. His tired face contorted in bewilderment, staring at Obi-Wan as though he was the strangest species yet to be discovered. “…I think I’m _finally_ sodding _losing it,”_ he despaired. He gripped his General’s upper arms and tugged, pulling with enough strength to stand them both on their feet. Obi-Wan stumbled along with him, though the terse movement was more than sufficient to cast daggers through his frame and set fire to his lungs. He shuddered awfully and gasped as he crumbled back down. Cody sputtered in a barrage of apologies. When Obi-Wan showed no signs of recovering, falling instead into a sort of raspy fit of coughs, he proceeded to gather him up in both arms and lift him more cautiously. The General was always light-weight. A clone in medical uniform was jogging around the corner as Cody shuttled inside, limping determinedly with his teeth clenched together.

As soon as he set Obi-Wan on the bed, he punched the emergency call button and dragged over his chair from the desk. Obi-Wan had successfully stowed his cough in the meantime, purposefully so that he could meet his Commander’s bleary gaze with intense disapproval. Neither of them said anything when the medic stormed in and began to gauge the situation.

“Wait a minute- is that, General Kenobi?” he blurted in confusion.

“It _is,”_ Cody answered slowly without breaking eye contact.

“Well what in Jango’s good name is he doing _here?!”_

“That’s what _I’d_ like to know.” The bitterness in his voice painted over the whole room. Obi-Wan took the opportunity to persuade by the assistance of emotional contrast. He stuffed the pain down his throat in an instant.

“I was discharged this morning,” he addressed the medic with sudden softness and pleasantry. “I’m sorry for your trouble. My subordinate is overreacting.”

An artery popped into view upon Cody’s neck. The poor medic wasn’t given a chance to respond. “Oh your _subordinate_ is about to get _discharged_ from the damned Republic _ARMY_ for unarmed _assault!”_ He might have been vibrating as he leaned forward toward Obi-Wan’s face.

Nobody spoke after that, for a time. Obi-Wan waited for his Commander to retract, and when he did not, the General’s smile changed by a margin, and he folded his hands politely. “… _My,”_ he began with an ominous grin, “How bold you’ve become in four days.”

The stampeding footfalls of the emergency medical team could be heard from outside on their rapid approach. Obi-Wan laid back into the heap of three cushions. Cody looked anywhere else in the room to still his thrumming nerves. And when the entourage arrived in full, it was frightfully serene in the way they were met without resistance. Obi-Wan lifted his arm when he was asked, complied with the sensors they placed over his heart, and consented to whatever new drugs they would give him. In fact, the only disturbance he incited was in the middle of all this when he opened his eyes a ways, and reported the coming of another visitor. A scant five seconds later, Anakin came barreling into the room, utterly disheveled and pursued by a nurse who was hopeless to catch up.

“WHAT HAPPENED,” he asked to everyone and no one at once, shoving and squeezing through clones without regard for an answer.

“Hello Anakin,” Obi-Wan welcomed him lovingly. His mind was beginning to drift. He must have consented to a sedative at some point. Or not, which was perhaps just as likely to result in the same event.

It was something out of a dream for Anakin to witness his Master awake and in motion. It didn’t match the ugly gore in the Force, not at _all,_ but that didn’t prevent him from reacting with sheer glee. Having woken up to the sensation of choking and screaming through their bond, the picture right here was a million times better than he was expecting to find. Anakin would have liked nothing more than to pounce over top of Obi-Wan on sight, but sadly as ever, he confined himself to the bedside and pretended to be content. “I can’t believe you’re alive!” he exclaimed as the professionals resumed their re-wiring. Cody offhandedly wondered if _he_ might be the one with the happier meeting, were it instead Anakin who was plagued with the impossible task of General Kenobi.

“I’m just as surprised,” Obi-Wan reflected, letting his eyes close again.

“What’s up with the new room? Don’t tell me it had something to do with way I woke up this morning. And thanks for that, by the way.”

“Mmh, thought I’d like… change of scenery.” He turned his wrist over to draw Anakin’s attention to the tubes he suspected were stealing his consciousness so swiftly. There wouldn’t be any more time to explain.

Fortunately, Anakin was both intuitive and easy to distract. “…Oh. Uh, guess we can talk some more later. All right? Because well,” he lowered his voice, “There’s gonna be a _lot_ we have to discuss.” Obi-Wan was already gone.

The emergency response team performed the routine checks for each piece of equipment they called into action, then dictated the new mandate for Obi-Wan’s condition – which was a lot like the old one, Cody was clever to note, but this time had stronger wording. Cynically predicting a repeat offense in the very near future, Cody requested the medical consent forms affiliated, and signed off on the use of everything he could think of to strip his General of free will. He was already in the can for backtalk. Might as well take it all the way home.

“Man. I can’t believe he’s awake after all that,” commented Anakin, glowing euphoric nearby. Cody kept reading to himself.

“ _Yeah._ It’s fripping _excellent.”_


	21. Chapter 21

The conference room of the outpost tower’s seventh floor was dusty and monochrome, just like every other aspect of Florrum. Today marked the completion of a full week since the disaster on the southern cliffs. It was high time to report in to the Jedi Council – especially considering that Ahsoka believed the testimonies from her two allies could satisfy the mission objective. Cody had nearly forgotten about Liiqua and Majum by now, caught between all the duties of a General and then some. He’d been appearing less and less often inside the tower for the past few days. More commonly, he was accompanied by Ahsoka while they and the other clones maintained patrol between the perimeter camps. It just wasn’t feasible to operate in the field without the foresight of a Jedi, even with the additional camp to the west. And while the remaining troops were either running supplies or yet hospitalized from the incident before, the outpost was practically empty as a result. It would be bad news if the enemy made it up to the tower for a real assault. Even so, with the troops spread so thin already, there wasn’t much else to be done.

Anakin glanced about the room nervously while Ahsoka brushed away at the front of his robes. No one here looked “formal,” by any stretch of the imagination, but it was hard for those more well-acquainted with the Council to resist the urge to clean themselves up at least a little bit. Cody was just trying to stay awake until the scheduled time of the meeting. Liiqua was immune to the air of formality, as ever, and Majum didn’t even bother putting forth the effort to stand, tattered as he was already.

“It’ll be fine,” Ahsoka comforted her jittery Master. “They won’t make any decisions about rank unless Master Obi-Wan is with them. We’re gonna be back on Coruscant in no time.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Anakin mumbled in return. The blotchy pattern of partially healed burns and cuts over her arms took his mind off his impending judgement. “Don’t you have a cloak or something? You still look pretty beat up.”

“Oh– Uh– I think I… It’s… Probably somewhere back at the capital,” she confessed. Anakin sighed.

“I’m gonna go look for mine.” He jogged to the door, grateful to come across a task that could keep him in motion. “But don’t make this a habit, okay? I can’t loan out cloaks to you _and_ Obi-Wan all the time.”

Cody peeked at the chronometer on the wall to gauge whether or not he’d be late to the start. Five minutes ‘till transmission. A possible impromptu escape tactic. He thought to ask Anakin to hurry back on his way out, but somehow, Cody failed to muster the energy needed to care.

“Where is the other Jedi?” asked Liiqua, impatient. “After this meeting, I wish to return to my city. I will not wait here to repeat myself later.”

“He’s sedated,” Cody said flatly, before Ahsoka could chime in. He shuffled bonelessly in his chair until he faced the Director sitting upright. “He’s not joining us. The door’s been code-locked, vents are welded on, and I’ve got a droid checking the room ten times a day.” Satisfied with his report, he shriveled back into his chair. Ahsoka looked concerned. “Wish I could get my hands on one’a those… Force collars. Whatever they are.”

 _“_ That’s a torture device, Commander,” Ahsoka informed him gently.

“…Oh. Guess we’ll be banking on those drugs to keep ‘im outta this meeting, then.”

Sparing a second to read over his scrambled coherency in the Force, Ahsoka volunteered to address Liiqua’s interests, instead. “Just– don’t worry, Director Liiqua. We’ll make sure you can leave by the end of today.”

An uncomfortable silence drifted into the space. It extended the time in which it took for Anakin to return, but he did so on schedule, and spent the remaining minute before the call hurriedly draping and folding his cloak over his Padawan. Liiqua judged his skills inadequate, and the two argued together while they both tried to dress Ahsoka in such a way that she wasn’t so suspiciously drowning in the long, oversized fabric. Cody put an end to their squabble by announcing the beginning of the call. Anakin swirled around just in time to witness Cody as he pressed the button and activated the transceiver integrated into the table. The blue light flooded forth. Everyone watched with anticipation, and in a moment’s delay, five members of the Council came into view.

“Relieved we are, to hear from you at last,” greeted Yoda’s raspy voice where he sat upon his small, round chair. “Most troubling, your report was, Commander Cody.”

Anakin appreciated the fact that none of them could pick up on his overflowing anxiety.

“Everything is under control, sir,” Cody responded at once.

Saesee studied the area, dissatisfied. “Where is Master Kenobi?” he interrogated coarsely.

“General Kenobi is on medical leave, General Tiin.” A cryptic exchange of eyes swept through the Council then, culminating in a well-shrouded examination of Anakin’s holographic form. The Force might as well have been an accessory for them, given the surgical intensity of their combined gaze. Anakin wrung his fingers behind his back.

“Questions, we have, for Master Kenobi alone,” Yoda contemplated, “But proceed nonetheless, we must.”

“You mentioned in your report that you’ve withdrawn from your positions around the tower and the capital,” followed Mace.

“Yes, sir,” Cody affirmed, “The perimeter has since then been reinforced with a second patrol from the 501st. I’m keeping an eye out there with Commander Tano. As for our position at the capital, Commander Tano returned with the intel, as ordered.” He next turned to face their guests. “This is the head of Vinnesta’s public affairs and investigations department.” Liiqua kept her arms folded tight and did not lengthen her introduction. “This is another informant Commander Tano met inside the city,” Cody continued, “Who goes by the name of Majum.”

“Ah. A double agent, I see,” remarked Ki-Adi with a smile. Recognizing his name in conversation, Majum tilted his head in Liiqua’s direction. It had been some time since she’d stopped complaining about her service as a translator. When she finished muttering quietly to him in Huttese, he ran a meditative finger over the horns along his jaw.

“He ah, he prefers to speak in Huttese,” Cody supplied. “I hope that’s not going to be a problem.”

The door to the conference room hissed open. From the Council’s perspective, the five holograms on call looked back in simultaneity at what appeared to be nothing. But while they soon depicted a variety of unsettling expressions, the Council was mostly unfazed when Obi-Wan stepped into the transceiver’s image. He wore the new robes brought in from the northern camp by Cody. These robes, along with the lightsaber hanging secure on his belt, were last seen inside a code-protected drawer. And though the recent wear to his armor was unable to be fully buffed clean, it was worthwhile to note that it no longer bore bloodstains. The chestplate was conspicuously absent from the set – a cause for suspicion, no doubt, but Obi-Wan reasoned it would be easier to fabricate a story around _that_ , provided it became necessary, than it would to explain the blatant hole adorning the armor otherwise.

“Pardon my delay,” he apologized, coming to a stop between Anakin and Cody. “Please, continue.”

“Enjoying your medical leave, I see you are, Master Kenobi.” Yoda grinned his way. He understood the situation instantly, but still took pleasure in prodding his great grand-Padawan every now and again.

Obi-Wan did not stutter in the slightest. “It was quite refreshing. I daresay I might miss being coddled so.” The Force inside the conference room was ripe with untapped hostility. Ahsoka hummed with apprehension, Cody writhed in incredulity, and Anakin coiled between four different emotions at least. Liiqua seemed to be modestly entertained by it all, though it was difficult to sift her less volatile feelings away from the thundering noise of everyone else. Majum was patently indifferent. _A veteran’s disregard,_ Obi-Wan extracted briefly.

“Now that we are assembled as expected, shall we move on?” suggested Ki-Adi, placidly. “I, for one, would like to listen to our new allies.”

Shielded by the religious presence of the Council sitting circular in hologram, the meeting progressed without debate. Majum spoke exhaustively. With unprecedented vitality, he illustrated the history of his people, thereby explaining their violence toward the Jedi. The Kajain'sa'Nikto’s very culture as a people was imbued with unfortunate servitude to the Hutts. Majum’s clan had long accepted this tradition, until the day came when they rebelled for their freedom. The Hutts reveled in their power even so, organizing slaughter upon public slaughter, driving their former slaves to a nomadic and surreptitious lifestyle. Those who returned in secret to beg for forgiveness were killed in a multitude of unique ways, rumor of which always percolated with uncanny swiftness. Anyone found to be holding unauthorized dealings with the Nikto were quickly erased, and conditions for the Nikto clans yet loyal became increasingly more severe. Once the Hutts had deprived Majum’s clan to the point of complete isolation, they were finally granted their wish – in the form of a permanent exile on Florrum. There were few Nikto left by then who still believed in the value of freedom. Cursed to wander an infertile dust trap, many came to dream of their lives in the past: steady, supplied, and viewed as something close to normal people. It thus came as little surprise when nearly everyone agreed to the ultimatum delivered by the Hutts on the exile’s first anniversary. For reasons undisclosed, the Hutt Clan had taken interest in acquiring large amounts of territory on Florrum. Knowing the Jedi were sure to interfere, the Hutts offered Majum’s clan forgiveness in exchange for their service in clearing away the Jedi presence by any means necessary. The deal was contentious, but years of brutality made monsters of friends, and the opposition was decisively quashed in a bloody and tragic dispute. Majum was among the first to lead his people to their so-called freedom. He urged them to resist the Hutts’ temptation, and now he held arms against them.

There was little that Liiqua could add. The atmosphere was denser without the accented husk of Majum’s voice, a sacred brand of quietude moving into its place and allotting a moment of thought for the novel perspective. It was Mace who shattered the fragile peace.

“…Well,” he began slowly, “It looks like _we’re_ gonna have to talk to the Hutts.”

“I’m not so sure that’s the best course of action,” argued Obi-Wan in turn. He currently sat at the table across from Majum, filling his place on the Council in every way except physically.

“The Hutt Clan _cannot_ be reasoned with,” supported Eeth in tempered outrage. “We must speak instead with the leader of these Nikto.”

Anakin took a rigid step forward. “Well I agree with Master Windu. The Hutts have gone _too far_ this time, and somebody needs to put them in their _place.”_

Obi-Wan leveled his apprentice’s indignation with a delicate raise of his hand. “I won’t disagree with that, but we must consider the amount of leverage we have on either side. Accusing the Hutts without tangible evidence will inevitably worsen our relations. And once they learn that we know of their hand in this, they may decide to accelerate their efforts.”

“Accelerate?” questioned Saesee. “If the Hutt Clan is aware that we know of these atrocities, it would be in their interest to leave Florrum alone.”

“The Hutt Clan doesn’t let things go so easily,” said Mace.

Eeth proposed his stance once again. “They will deny their involvement even when slime covers the planet. We can settle this by negotiating with the people they are using as tools. If we persuade the Nikto, the Hutts will be unable to collect whatever it is that they want from Florrum.”

“We can help them establish a home and cultivate food!” Ahsoka spoke up, inspired. “If they become self-sufficient, they’d be a symbol of hope for the other clans that are still enslaved!” Anakin felt that her idea of slavery was simplistic, but he couldn’t fault her for wanting to help a group who suffered for so long to gain freedom. …Forty of which he had killed. _Kriff._

“That _would_ be the best outcome,” Obi-Wan encouraged her affectionately.

“Very well,” decided Yoda from the side. His word was always final. “Negotiate with these Nikto, Master Kenobi will. Misguided, they are.” He turned his attention to address Obi-Wan alone. “Bring them to the light, you must.”

The Council acquiesced. Obi-Wan blinked in misunderstanding for half a second, momentarily incapable of fathoming the prospect of being assigned a continuation of this ungodly mission. He didn’t haul himself up seven floors of emergency elevator shafts to be told that he wouldn’t be going home. He didn’t trick the medical droid into opening the locked drawer with his stuff in order to swallow the second half of the desert. He didn’t– …No. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a Jedi. Experiencing the Sand Wraiths’ ferocity firsthand made Obi-Wan the best candidate for all subsequent tasks on Florrum. He was also customarily assigned missions centered around high-risk negotiations. Adding to that, he was conveniently in position already. There was, most depressingly, not a single good reason for Obi-Wan to let the mission go. He accepted his fate with a nod. “Understood, Master Yoda.”

“Speak with us again at another time, you should. Finished discussing matters outside of this mission, we have not.” The appending sentiment, “ _Alone,_ ” needed not be said.

“Yes, Master.” A thought occurred to him then. “Ah– Before you go, I would like to request transfer of the troops here to Coruscant. They’ve had something of a rough time since we landed initially. We’re in need of reinforcements anyway, so the ships carrying new troops in can just as easily take the current ones back. And I don’t expect I’ll be needing to belabor Anakin or Ahsoka any longer, so I suggest they be reassigned elsewhere.”

A lightning bolt of injustice burst in through the Force. _“What?!”_ Anakin and Ahsoka both exclaimed in unison. Cody had thus far kept himself from exploding as such, but he certainly wasn’t very far from the brink.

Several members of the Council brightened at their excessive reactions. Others regarded them as childish. Yoda was wise enough to appreciate both. He snickered in response. “Their opinions, you have, Master Kenobi. But what of your obedient Commander, hmmm?”

Cody startled from his mood. He floundered then, not entirely sure how he could give his opinion honestly right now without a great deal of words that had no place among the Jedi Council. “Um, you’re, asking my opinion, sir?” Yoda brimmed with anticipation. “Right… Then.” _Don’t back down, soldier._ “Uh, well to be short, I’m not gonna be off this rock until I’m either dead or flying back with General Kenobi. I can guarantee you that every clone in the 212th would agree. We can’t leave here in good conscience, sir.”

Yoda trained his gaze back onto Obi-Wan then. “A good Commander he is, you must agree.”

“An even better General, if we’re asking opinions now.” Obi-Wan shrugged as though it was the most obvious fact in the galaxy. “But I suppose that the matter’s been settled. I will respect everyone’s decisions to stay, ill-advised as they are, and I’ll have a report from the leader of the Sand Wraiths by the end of this week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations; you have reached mission completion.
> 
> If you would be so kind, please let me know if you think this ending was awkward. There has been a small collection of dissent regarding the "loose ends" some readers felt were important to take care of, and I'd like to know if I ought to write a continuation of this story in response. Otherwise, the next thing I write will be a different mission.
> 
> Not that I have a definitive start date for any of this, but I do have an amount of preliminary writing for either a sequel or other ideas. My schedule is not permissive these days, so I'd prefer to establish a priority sequence for what gets written when I next have some slot of time I can afford to procrastinate with.


End file.
